


Dark Tapestry

by CeruleanWing



Series: The Web She Weaves [1]
Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Elves, Drow, Drug Use, Elves, F/M, Focused on Jarlaxle but also on original characters, Forgotten Realms Lore, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jarlaxle is a father!, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, bisexual Jarlaxle, implied/referenced lots of things because drow are not nice people in general, takes place after Timeless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanWing/pseuds/CeruleanWing
Summary: Life is looking up for Jarlaxle. He has increased the strength of his mercenary band, Bregan Daerthe. He has consolodated his power in Luskan. He is surrounded by many friends and allies. All that is threatened when an old lover shows up at his door begging for sanctuary for not only herself, but the child she claims is his own daughter.





	1. Stirrings in the Web

"She showed up four days ago at the outpost halfway between Menzoberranzan and Gracklstugh," said Valas Hune as he absently toyed with one of the many trinkets attached to his vest.

"And she has a child with her? How did she get that far in the Underdark without anyone else to escort her?"

Valas shook his head.

"She's not very forthcoming. I got the impression that it wasn't hard for her, though."

Jarlaxle was silent for a moment, his black fingers drumming a tiny beat into the fine mahogany wood of his desk. He was not caught off guard often in his life, but this was certainly one of those few moments. The woman in question was not a person he had expected to ever see again, let alone show up right on his doorstep several hundred miles of land and about five miles of stone from where he last spoke to her.

"Thank you for bringing her here. I don't know what she wants, but if this is some deception it is better that she is in Luskan where I am surround by allies, instead of down there with the servants of Lolth." He stood up from the desk. "Bring her in, but post guards outside the door."

Valas gave a curt bow then turned to open the door.

Jarlaxle checked his hips surreptitiously to make sure he was well armed. He did indeed know his guest quite well, and she was deadly, though he was at least a century older and therefore more experienced in all matters than her. He wasn't afraid of her alone, but who knew what kind of scheme she was planning.

A few moments later, he heard shuffling outside the door, then a familiar woman walked in. For a moment, he studied her, taking in her silken black skin, wide-set red eyes and wavy silver tresses that flowed down her back. It wasn't hard to be attracted to Vaelirra Del'Armgo. Many men chased her for her extraordinary beauty and Jarlaxle had been no exception.

Vaelirra used her appearance to her advantage and he had been more than eager to oblige her whatever she wanted just for a chance to enjoy her exquisite form. But his dalliances with her, though pleasant, had never been anything truly serious. His work with Bregan D'aerthe had kept him from becoming committed to a woman - or a man for that matter - for anything more than sharing beds. Moreover, the two of them had parted on good terms. He'd made no promises to see her again, though he wasn't opposed to it.

And that was why he couldn't understand what she was doing here.

He rose from his chair and reached out to clasp her hand. It was soft and smooth, just as he had remembered. He tried to think of when he had last seen the woman. Was it five years ago? Ten? He hadn't been to Menzoberranzan often in the last couple of decades. Jarlaxle much preferred the relative peace and novelty of the surface lands to the unending backstabbing of the City of Spiders.

"Vaelirra! It is wonderful to see you. You have certainly come a long way to Luskan." He smiled at her.

She did not smile back. Instead, she opened her mouth, then hesitated for a moment as if trying to find the right words.

"I am glad to see you well," she said finally. Her face twisted for a moment into an expression he could not read. Relief perhaps? That was some of it he was sure. But there was also fear. Did she fear him?

No, he thought. She fears whatever she has fled from.

She looked over her shoulder at the door. It gave Jarlaxle and opportunity to study her momentarily. Clothed in a simple tunic and slacks, she looked far different than the usually extravagantly dressed woman he'd known. Perhaps she had left in a hurry? He would know the reason she was here and soon.

"Kesrith! Come here."

In walked a tiny drow girl, perhaps no older than nine or ten. Like Vaelirra, the child was dressed in spartan clothing. His eyes scanned over her face and noted the resemblance between the two females. There was no doubt. This was Vaelirra's child. The girl resembled her mother, with her wide-set eyes and fine features, but there were differences too. Instead of a deep ruby, the girl's eyes were a pearl grey - a color unusual in drow. And she hadn't quite grown into her beauty yet. Her spindly limbs, long ears a bit too large for her face and buck teeth reminded him a bit of a rabbit. She was quite adorable decided Jarlaxle, a thought that surprised him.

She clutched to her chest an elaborate doll, all dressed up in a miniature version of the finest fashions of Menzoberranzan. The toy was the only

"Kesrith," said Vaelirra. "This is Jarlaxle. He is going to help us."

The little girl's pale eyes flitted over him, taking in his flamboyant attire, then over the office which which was filled with strange trinkets from every end of Toril. She examined these objects briefly, then returned her eyes to him.

Her tiny face furrowed.

"I don't want his help. I want to go home. Vaelirra, you will take me home, now."

Vaelirra gripped her little arm. The girl gritted her teeth in anger and attempted to twist away from her mother.

"Stop," said Vaelirra. "You won't talk to me that way here. And you will call me Mother here, and nothing else."

Kesrith glared up at her with a vitriol that surprised Jarlaxle. Drow children, as a rule, didn't dare disobey their often cruel mothers, or disrespect them in any way lest they feel the bite of her scourge. This girl, on the other hand, was defiant.

And she isn't afraid of Vaelirra, noted Jarlaxle. He pondered that for a moment, then spoke.

"Ladies," Jarlaxle began, trying to diffuse the conflict between the two of them. "I'm sure you've had a long journey. Everyone becomes a bit irritable after traveling so far." He gestured to the plush chairs in front of his desk.

"Please, have a seat."

Vaelirra sat immediately, but Kesrith still stood regarding him. Her grey eyes passed over him again and something about them was unsettling. Then the child calmly walked over and sat beside her mother.

"So, what brings you so far from the City of Spiders?" he asked.

"We need refuge," said Vaelirra and the little girl turned her head sharply.

"But I don't want to stay here!" cried Kesrith. "I want to go home. I don't want to be in this world of iblith! You will take me back to my matron!"

Vaelirra's eyes flashed in anger. Her hands moved, spelling out something towards the girl in the drow sign language. Kesrith's eyes widened and she shrank back from her mother, sufficiently cowed for the moment. The girl folded her arms in front of her and pouted which prompted the adults to ignore her.

"As I said, Jarlaxle. We need a place to stay for a while."

"I take it that things are not going well for you in Menzoberranzan?"

Jarlaxle had heard that she was not fond of her mother, the formidable Matron Mez'Barriss Del'Armgo. The Armgo Matron was known for being both fanatically religious and militant. She drove her children and her house hard, all in pursuit of the ultimate prize: the status of the First House.

Vaelirra, by contrast, preferred art, music and hedonistic parties to religion and martial training. She'd spent her centuries avoiding the myriad of responsibilities usually foisted upon a woman of her station. Luckily for her, she had several older sisters that interested her mother more.

"No, it is not," said Vaelirra, her eyes cast down.

"Are you thinking about moving to Luskan?"

Her eyes examined her hands for a moment.

"I suppose that is the only choice for now," she said, her lips pursed

Silence stretched out before the three of them for a few long moments. Whatever had made his former lover come to him was something she was frightened by. But he just couldn't allow himself to trust her outright. She was a drow female after all, and for all he knew, the church or her own mother could have forced her to come and assassinate him whether it was something she herself wanted or not.

But that wouldn't explain the child would it? he thought. Jarlaxle couldn't conceive of any reason a little girl would be here.

He glanced back over at Kesrith who was still sulking, then had an idea.

"Very well," he said. "We will protect you. Provided of course, that you have the funds." He threw his slender hands up in an apologetic gesture. "Everything has a price."

Truthfully, he would protect her for free if it came down to it, but he wanted to judge her reaction to the demand. Had she come prepared? If this was all a set up then surely she had something stashed away somewhere. He just needed more information.

When her eyes widened it confirmed at least one of his suspicions.

"I can't pay you much. I barely had enough to pay for food on the journey here and for a scroll of teleportation. Mother seized everything..." she started, then realized she had slipped more information than she should have.

Jarlaxle scowled coldly.

"And what makes you think that my company is a charitable organization?"

Vaelirra sputtered for a few moments. Then her eyes narrowed. Through gritted teeth she said: "You will help me, Jarlaxle. I will make you help me!"

"And what do I get out of it? What if I refuse?"

She shot up from the chair, her hands balled into fists.

"You won't refuse. I know you won't."

"And how do you know that?"

Vaelirra looked around the room. Kesrith was looking up now, her face nervously glancing between the two of them. Finally, after a few moments of angry pacing, Vaelirra stopped and looked him in the eyes.

"Because Kesrith is your daughter."


	2. Whiskey Ain't Strong Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place a bit after Hero. It diverges into an AU from there but I am going to use some of the elements, particularly the past parts with Zak and Jarlaxle in this story.

"Haven't you had enough?" asked the bartender as he slid a glass of strong whiskey across the bar. The grizzled face studied him and frowned when he didn't say anything.

"You'd better pay up, too." The man gave a not-so-subtle nod towards the enormous thugs by the door.

Artemis Entreri scowled at him then tossed back the glass, drinking it in one big gulp.

He didn't think he could have enough to drink. At least not after last night. He had thought things were looking up for him. He had a beautiful woman at his side. All his enemies thought he was dead and gone, and he'd even managed to score a nice apartment in the middle class district of Neverwinter. Sure, his days were always punctuated with Dahlia's "episodes," but it was nothing he couldn't have handled. That is until she had tried to kill him in his sleep with his own sword.

Entreri had believed that she was past this, that her mind was better now and that she had finally calmed down. He should have known something was wrong when he had found her outside in the middle of the night, rocking back and forth and sobbing hysterically. Her eyes had been haunted that night and he had tried to comfort her as best he could but she ignored his pleas to come back in. He hadn't been able to reason with her and the night after that she had tried to murder him. 

For years before she had ever met him, Dahlia had been a black widow. Acquiring lovers, then challenging them so that she could murder them was what she had lived for until she had met Drizzt and been led to her son by an extraordinary set of circumstances. She had suffered and been enslaved by the vile dark elf houses of Menzoberranzan to play some fucked up psychological game with Drizzt. Entreri had done his best to love her and take care of her, only for her to turn black widow on him. He had knocked her out and fled Neverwinter just to end up in Luskan.

_Old habits die hard, I guess._

Entreri pulled out his purse and stacked a few coins on the bar as the bartender glared at him. Then he stood up from the stool and made his was past the thugs. He tried not to think about Dahlia for the moment, so he focused on them. They had cruel smiles for him. He smirked back. He was Artemis Entreri and could destroy both of them easily.

I hate this place, he thought as he left the bar. He might have drank more than he usually did but he was smart enough not to drink so much that he would be vulnerable. After all, Luskan had a bad reputation compounded by the presence of not only pirates, but drow. 

The City of Sails stank like rotten fish in most of the parts. The muddy streets and the air that was chilled even in summer irritated him, a man who had been born and raised in the sweltering deserts of the south. He passed some fishmongers and market stalls and lowered his gaze to make sure they knew he wasn't interested in anything they were trying to sell.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Jarlaxle had improved the run down city which before had been only inhabited by pirates. The drow had little tolerance for anything they viewed as unclean, so the city at least no longer smelled like dung on top of rotting fish. In addition, he saw some signs on the doors in the drow language as well as some stall serving drow food fresh from the Underdark. He recognized a few of the dishes--particularly a rothe dish with spicy mushrooms that he remembered being quite tasty.

The drow are marking their territory, he mused. No doubt they intended to make an even greater mark on the city in the coming centuries. Artemis was a human but had had an unnaturally long life that allowed him to observe the way that the longer lived races worked. Elves, including their dark brethren the drow, plotted and planned things out over long centuries, sometimes so slowly that any resulting changes would be so subtle that most humans wouldn't notice as they'd be dead by the time those changes were noticeable.

However, the changes in Luskan over the past few decades had been drastic and even the most unobservant human would have been blind not to see what the city was becoming: a drow colony. 

In fact, the population of drow had increased in the past few months since he had been here last. That did not bode well for the humans of this city. Drow weren't exactly known for sharing and caring. 

He sighed. Entreri had come here because he had been given a teleport scroll by Jarlaxle who had still tried to befriend him. The scroll led to the bar he had just been in. He didn't want to get mixed up with the drow again. 

But then again where could he go? Neverwinter had Dahlia, who was unstable at the moment. Other places had nothing for him. He wondered whether he should speak to his old friend again. Perhaps he could get Kimmuriel to peer into Dahlia's mind and heal it, so he could go home to his nice little apartment and forget this had ever happened. 

_Yes,_ he decided. _Jarlaxle it is._


	3. A Viper's Nest

Matron Mother Mez'barris del'Armgo of House Barrison del'Armgo gritted her teeth in frustration. "And you are sure?" she asked. "She is on the surface and brought Kesrith with her?"

"Yes, my matron. We believe she contacted someone from Bregan D'aerthe and has made her way to the surface lands," said her eldest daughter Drisinil, who was kneeling before her eyes downcast. Always willing to grovel and play the sycophant since she had been failed out of Arach Tinilith, the academy that trained priestesses of Lolth, Drisinil had her uses but could be irritating at times.

"They are holed up in Luskan, my matron," said her nephew, a young wizard name Faxian. Mez'barris gave him a look that made his face pale, though she wasn't really aiming at him.

Instead her ire was directed solely at her now missing youngest daughter, Vaelirra, who had taken her child and fled to the surface. She was Mez'Barris' youngest natural daughter, before the matron mother had adopted Kesrith, her own grandchild as her own. The girl had shown unusual cunning for her age, as well as prophetic visions that her other daughter, the high priestess Taayrul had claimed meant that the child was a Y'orthae, a chosen of Lolth. Mez'Barris had immediately declared the child First Daughter of the house, much to the outrage of her own daughters and had set about grooming the child to be the future matron mother.

House Barrison Del'Armgo was known for the absolute might of its warriors, and to a lesser degree its mages. However, the women of the house were nowhere near as prominant in the Church of Lolth as other great houses, something that Mez'Barris had made an effort to remedy. Kesrith was her chance, and she wouldn't let her fool daughter destroy that.

I should have killed Vaelirra when Kesrith started showing her abilities, thought the matron. Vaelirra, enraged at having her own child taken from her, had plotted against her mother. Vaelirra had made her move and had stolen a precious asset from House Del'Armgo. 

"We must get her back," said Mez'Barris. "It is imperative that we retrieve Kesrith." 

"We will. We will not let a child of our house, one who is chosen of Lolth to fall into the hands of heretics and apostates and surface filth," replied Drisinil, the disgust for surfacers evident in her face.

"I can't rely on Bregan D'aerthe for this. We need to hire someone else."

"I can go, my matron," said Drisinil. "I will find Vaelirra and kill her, then return with Kesrith." 

Mez'Barris thought about it for a moment. Drisinil's offer might just be a way for her to gain a little glory after having fallen so far a century before. It was clear that she craved a higher position than her younger sisters and an opportunity to to eliminate at least one of them would be tempting to her. However, there would also be the opportunity to eliminate _Kesrith_ , which Mez'Barris would not tolerate.

"No," said the matron after a moment. "I will send someone else."

"But matron, I-"

"Enough! You will stay here and serve me as you always have."

She turned to Faxian.

"Male. Prepare a courier for me. I must send a message."

"Are you going to send for someone to retrieve them from the surface?" asked Drisinil, still clearly disappointed with her lot. "Who?"

The matron mother smiled coldly.

"Oh, I have someone in mind..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House Del'Armgo
> 
> Mez"Barris - Matron mother  
> Drisinil - Eldest daughter. Disgraced after a failed plot had her ousted from the academy of priestesses.  
> Taayrul - Second and favored daughter. The high priestess of the house.  
> Divya - Third daughter. She is a minor priestess and a warrior.  
> Vaelirra - Fourth daughter. A bard and an actress, she excels in the arts. She is also a minor priestess of Lolth.  
> Malagdorl - Eldest son and house weapons master.  
> Faxian - Nephew of the matron and a wizard.
> 
> *I made some of these up and others are actual canon characters.


	4. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kesrith is a bit of a brat in this one so be forewarned.

Jarlaxle sighed and peered again at the woman sitting across from him in his study. The door to the patio opened to the outside and a cool breeze drifted in along with the muffled voice of the girl outside playing with her doll. Unused to the humidity of the Luskan summer, Vaelirra waved a small painted fan in front of her face as she spoke about her daughter.

 _Their daughter,_ thought Jarlaxle. Something about that thought made a lump form in his throat. Was Kesrith truly his? Vaelirra had been an occasional lover for over a century, that much was true. And the last time that they had been together was consistent with Kesrith’s age.

“Vaelirra, are you sure that she is…?” he asked.

“She is. You remember our little tryst back then, right? She is. I tell you she is because I was with no other male during that year or the year before.”

He wore a ring enchanted to detect whether those he spoke to were telling the truth or not. And there was no doubt about it, Vaelirra was telling the truth as she knew it.

 _Gromph can help me confirm it._ Gromph would have spells that would be able to tell the child’s paternity and he would know once and for all. He made a mental note to get in touch with his dear brother, then turned his attention back to Vaelirra.

“They are sending her to a Melarnist school.”

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow.

“Melarnist? As in _House_ Melarn?”

Vaelirra nodded. 

“They are now operating a school for girls before they attend Arach-Tinilith. Many of the great houses are worried. The Melarn are fanatical beyond reason and militant. They were teaching Kesrith to abuse herself in the Dark Mother’s name. It was the last straw for me when she came home bleeding from cuts all over her body. She fought against me healing her because she said it was to prove herself to Lolth. There is no orthodox teaching in the Lolthite text that desires you to do this.” 

Jarlaxle shuddered as he digested this information.

“I was unaware that this school existed.”

“And you are normally on top of everything, I know. “ She offered him a smile. “But you are nevertheless a male and have been on the surface for years. The school is secret and is solely for the girls from elite noble houses. It only opened fifteen years ago and has been controversial. Many regard this school is heretical as well, for teaching our children to behave like savage zealots.”

“As opposed to the perfectly peaceful and entirely reasonable matron mothers? The sane and pacifistic priesthood of Lolth?”

Vaelirra gave him a withering glance.

“This is beyond anything they taught me in Arach-Tinilith. Nothing in there said to arm children for suicide attacks against surfacers, or to mutilate ourselves.” She sat down on the sofa and smoothed her violet skirt. “Besides, it is more than that. Mez’Barris seeks to turn Kesrith against me. She has chosen Kesrith as First Daughter.”

“And here I thought it would delight all drow mothers to see their little girls being twisted into whip-wielding fanatical theocrats with a predilection for torture and baby sacrifice but I suppose I was wrong.”

His white teeth gleamed against his black skin in a charming grin.

“And she doesn’t desire to change her daughter into a paragon of evil, nor to allow her to mutilate herself at the behest of a cult! What luck! If I was to ever sire a child, it seems at least that I bedded the right woman.”

She laughed then lowered her eyes, bringing to his mind all the pleasures they had enjoyed at their last meeting. Vaelirra was a beautiful creature. And unlike most drow females, she had a sense of humor.

“Of course,” she said after a moment. “I wished for my daughter to become matron mother. It is the highest honor a drow female can know.“

She glanced around the chamber and softened her voice. 

“But this isn’t how things should be happening. This school, it has transformed her. It has turned her into something she is not. Kesrith wasn’t like this before. She was— well... She was more like you. She was charismatic and curious. Always asking questions. Always smiling and laughing."

Jarlaxle felt a knot in his chest. “And she perhaps asked one question too many? I imagine that did not go over well with the rest of House del’Armgo.”

The drow woman shook her silver head.

“That’s not it.”

She smoothed her skirt again—something Jarlaxle realized was a nervous gesture—then sighed.

“It's more than her personality. And bringing her here is more than just taking her away from that heretic academy. Kesrith isn’t like other children. She is special. She—“

“I am not a heretic. _You_ are the heretic.”

The two of them turned to see the child in question standing there 

“Kesrith. Outside. Now,” said Vaelirra through gritted teeth.

“I do not want to stand in the sun. It is cursed by Lolth.”

“And I do not care what you want.” Vaelirra’s fingers gripped the handle of the scourge in her lap. “If you do not obey me, Kesrith, I will punish you.”

“What _I_ want is to go home. Back to my real mother.”

“She is _not_ your mother. I am the one who gave birth to you. I will not let her have you.”

“You are wrong. She is my real mother. She is! And you stole me from her!”

Jarlaxle, losing patience at the situation opened his palms in a placating gesture.

"Kes… Might I call you Kes? Such an adorable nickname for an adorable child. Anyway, have you ever had a Waterdhavian spice cake? It is absolutely _delicious_ , I promise..."

The girl turned from her mother to regard him with a perplexed expression, her wide grey eyes blinking.

“You are a male,” she said imperiously. “You are not supposed to be even speaking to me. It is _heresy_ for a male to speak to a female without being spoken to.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to be heretics, now would we?” He knelt down before Kesrith so he was close to her and she frowned. He lowered his voice into a conspiratorial tone, a small smile on his face.

“But you know... up here no one will ever find out if you’d been a heretic or not. Now, about that spice cake, hm? Surely, a little sugar and cinnamon won’t anger Lolth _too_ much.”

She was about to scream when a knock at the door of the study prompted him to turn his head.

“Master,” said a male voice. “There is someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“A human who calls himself Artemis Entreri. I tried to disarm him and he told me he would kill me. He said that you wouldn’t mind if he had weapons.”

A grin spread across his dark face.

_Well, well._

He stood and bowed to them.

“I will return to this _delightful_ conversation later. I will have some of that cake brought down in the meantime.”

He winked at Kesrith, then turned to leave shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House Melarn - a high house of Menzoberranzan that is fanatical even by drow standards


	5. Old Friends

Artemis Entreri casually crossed his leg across his lap and twirled the little dagger through his fingers as the three drow around him pointed their swords at him.

 _The gods be damned drow_ , he thought. _Not what I wanted to get mixed up in again_. The hostile behavior he had immediately encountered outside of Jarlaxle's home just made the point more clear.

He tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it with his other hand, balancing it on one finger. The drow on the left flinched, clearly not expecting an " _iblith_ " to be so quick or agile. His sword tip came a little closer to Entreri but it trembled like the young drow who was wielding it.

"Put that thing away before you hurt yourself."

"Silence _iblith_! Or I'll sheath my blade in your bowels!" cried the young drow who, barely more than an adolescent. Ah, drow. Always so dramatic with their threats. He had lost track of how many times he'd been told by a drow that they wanted to flay him or drop him into pit of acid to melt his flesh from his bones or remove his still-beating heart to serve as a sacrifice to their vile goddess.

The most common insult, though -- and every other word that came out of their mouths -- was _iblith_. _Iblith_ , a word that could mean any number of disgusting things such as shit or piss or offal, was a word that they also used to refer to "surface filth," halflings and dwarves but in particular humans. And it wasn't just the words that had shown their utter contempt for him but The Look. Their eyes would pass over him in a mixture of both revulsion and surprise as he spoke as if he was nothing more than a primate in a cage flinging shit and they hadn't expected him to be capable of more than grunting. He had answered a few of those looks with the tip of his blade, making sure that surprise was warranted.

Most drow lived up to their unpleasant reputation and had zero remorse about it. They viewed it as an indisputable fact that all other beings-including surface elves-were completely inferior to them, therefore they were all _iblith_. In fact when Entreri thought about it, there were only two drow who had never called him _iblith_ or looked at him with disgust: Drizzt Do'Urden-his old rival and more recently, friend-who as far as he knew had never looked at anyone or anything that way, and the drow male that he was here to meet.

"I'm telling you _iblith,_ surrender your arms," said another of the drow guarding him. The drow swirled each of his daggers in a show meant to intimidate. Entreri laughed and shook his head.

"You won't be laughing when we finish with you, _human_ ," spat the middle drow with a hand crossbow. His finger slid down to the trigger, aiming straight for his heart. Now that could be a problem. He had learned long ago that those little crossbows were one of the deadliest weapons of the drow, as every bolt was tipped with drow sleeping poison, which was strong enough to incapacitate even elves like themselves. This allowed to drow to defeat or enslave nearly every race both on the surface and in the Underdark. If the boy pulled the trigger, Entreri wouldn't have long to kill these drow before he was incapacitated and murdered by them. A million scenarios passed in his head in one moment as he assessed the best way to fight out of this situation. If he could dodge the bolt in time it would give him and opportunity to throw a dagger at the drow's neck before he could reload, then while he was still lower to the ground he could drive his dagger up into the inside of that one's thigh, hitting and artery. Drow armor had several weaknesses that he knew all too well...

Before any of that came to pass, Entreri heard a scuffling at the door, then it opened.

"Do I _always_ have to diffuse the situation when it comes to you and my men?"came an elegant voice in perfect common tinged with only the lightest touch of a drow accent.

In walked Jarlaxle in all his foppish glory. Wearing a blue vest embroidered with golden thread that left ample room at the bottom to see his well toned abdomen, Jarlaxle looked ridiculous. He saw Entreri and grinned at him. Then he gave a lavish bow, his bright cape swirling behind him in a no-doubt intentional display of drama and ostentatiousness. Entreri rolled his eyes, then his attention drifted back to the mercenaries who were still glaring at him.

"You _could_ have warned them about me," grumbled Entreri.

"It is you, _iblith_ , who should have been warned about us!"

"Enough!" cried Jarlaxle, momentarily losing his refined demeanor, revealing the cold blooded killer that lurked just underneath the surface. "He is my guest and if you threaten him again I will allow him to kill you."

The drow underling sputtered at that. Their eyes gaped unable to believe that their employer would take the side of an _iblith_ over them.

 _Must be new,_ thought Entreri.

"Master, he threatened us!"

"And he is Artemis Entreri, a man you do not want to cross." He pointed towards the door. "Now leave before I dock your pay."

His tone left no room for argument and the three drow shuffled out of the room casting wary glances at both of them.

Jarlaxle shook his head.

"In the future, I will assign those three to something other than guarding my house." He turned to Entreri, his crimson eyes passing over his form, lingering a bit too long on his face for Entreri's comfort. "As for now, how might I be of service to you, old friend?"

Entreri sighed and ran his hand over his short dark hair.

"It's Dahlia. She's--"

But Entreri did not get to finish that sentence before the screaming started.


	6. Piety and Penance

Dresmorlin swung the whip again sucking in a breath as the many ends made contact his back, slicing it anew over the already open wounds, forming a criss-cross of red over the his black drow skin. He was pleased to feel the warmth of the blood pouring down his back and recited a silent prayer.

 _Dark Mother, I offer this blood in sacrifice. As penance for the sin of being male. As penance for my ancestor's crimes of apostasy_.

This was his daily ritual, as prescribed by the Melarn priestesses who told him and his sister that they would receive blessings from Lolth despite their family's crime if they would only harm themselves in this way. Of course, she'd first suggested for them to hold their skin to fire, but given their half-dragon heritage, that wouldn't work. 

The Melarn had found the siblings in an outpost that had belonged to the Jaezred Chaulssin, a heretical group consisting of shadow dragon-blooded drow males who sought to overthrow the Lolth-sanctioned drow matriarchy and replace it with a patriarchy.

Dresmorlin curled his lips in disgust. His ancestors were an abomination, for there was nothing else you could call apostates who sought to destroy the rule of the Spider Queen. He felt no affinity for them, or for his draconic heritage as anything more than a tool that would allow him to serve the goddess to the best of his ability. Indeed, he and his sister were only loyal to the Order of the Crimson Fang, also called the Melarnist school, though House Melarn made up only a portion of the sect.

"There will come a time when the Holy Venom of the Spider Queen will flow throughout the world, touching every individual, every living thing, every system," the priestess had told them. "We, the Crimson Fang, shall deliver that Venom."

He still remembered the woman's face as she preached to them. Her face flushed, eyes wide and brimming with the tears of religious ecstasy. He recalled being envious of the woman. How could he have that kind of connection to the goddess?

"But the Venom is not a curse. It is in fact a _gift_ ," she had continued, a blissful smile spreading across her dark face. "All sin shall be burned away. All weakness destroyed. All things that oppose the Spider Queen shall be annihilated. All that remains shall be reformed in service to the natural order that Lolth has determined." 

She had given him a meaningful look then. "All sentient beings will bow. Female and male. Humans, the elves on the surface, the dwarves. Even dragons. Yes, I tell you today that one day all shall bow down and be reformed according to Her will. And then the world shall be united. A single Mother, a single Goddess, a single Queen. The Natural Order will be restored!" 

In truth, this was why Dresmorlin was so devoted to the theology of the Crimson Fang. Unlike the Lolthite orthodoxy ruled by the contemptible Baenres, this allowed even him, a half breed drow born into a now defunct heretical sect a place at the goddess' side.

Other drow had always shown him contempt, but he cared not. Soon they would feel the Spider Queen's Venom, and it would either transform them into something that would tolerate the way the Lolth had made him, or it would destroy them for their lack of faith. He smiled at the thought. Yes, all of his enemies would fall soon enough.

Of course, no one really knew how far the Crimson Fang had spread. They had opened the school for young girls of course, but they had also fostered numerous cells away from the prying eyes of the decadent Baenres in their glittering palace. They traveled out into the Underdark spreading their message. They'd even managed to convert a congregation of gray dwarves! 

"Dres."

Distracted from his thoughts, he looked up to see his sister in the doorway.

He nodded his head to her. "Solenva." 

"So wonderful to see that you have finished your penance for today," she said, inspecting the whip that glistened with his blood.

"As I shall do everyday as long as I draw breath," he replied.

Making an approving noise, she crossed the room and sat on the divan. She held a scroll in her hand.

"Come, brother. We have a task that we must complete." Solenva patted the sofa in invitation.

He finished wiping the blood off, ignoring the sting. Then he sat next to his sister. He eyed the scroll.

"Another missionary task? Are we to go to the surface this time?"

"Yes and no. The surface is where we must go. But the task is to retrieve a child."

He raised a brow. "A surface elf child for sacrifice?"

Solenva shook her head. "The Oracle child has been stolen from her matron mother. We have been tasked with taking her back. Her mother took her to the surface to. It is believed that she is in a city called Luskan, with that rogue mercenary group Bregan D'aerthe."

Dresmorlin knew of the Oracle that was so often whispered about, but he had never seen her. Something about a girl who was "Lolth-touched" and had special abilities. That she was a child was news to him. But since this child was said to be a Chosen of Lolth, he would do his best to get her back. Exposure to heretics on the surface would be damaging to the child's spiritual health.

"Bregan D'aerthe is formidable. They are an arm of House Baenre are they not? Are we to fight them all if they won't give her up?" he asked after considering the situation.

"Baenre has something to do with them, yes. But they are on the surface, far from House Baenre. And we do not have to kill all of them. Just as many as necessary to get the girl back. They are made up of pathetic rogue males anyhow."

"Then I shall prepare for the journey." Dresmorlin moved to stand up but his sister's hand gripped his arm.

"We have a bit of time to spend together before we go, don't we?" Solenva unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her full breasts to him. Her eyes were dark with lust.

Fire ran in his veins. "Indeed." 


	7. Burn

Artemis Entreri dashed ahead of him. Jarlaxle was only a few feet behind They made their way through the house until they reached the door of the drawing room.

"Put it out! Put it out!" he heard Vaelirra cry as he got closer to the room. Jarlaxle also smelled the unmistakable scent of smoke. Did the child set a fire while he was gone? The child herself was crying uncontrollably. If this house was set on fire, it would burn much more easily than anything in the Underdark. It was a valuable asset to his organization and he didn't want to lose it.

Not knowing where any of them were, he yelled out to his men to bring water to the drawing room, though he feared they were out of the house and couldn't hear him.

Artemis slammed into the door with his shoulder, finally opening it, revealing a scene that sent chills straight down Jarlaxle's spine. The two drow females were right outside in the little garden.

Jarlaxle had expected that the house was starting to burn, but instead he saw that it was the child who was burning. She screamed as the flames destroyed the sleeve of her silken shirt. And Vaelirra screamed as she swiped at Kesrith's arm with a pillow.

Without a word, Artemis crossed the room in an instant. His agile body shoved the mother to the side. Then he grabbed the child and pushed her down into the dirt, rolling with her to smother the flames. She screamed and tore at him, but was no match for the strength of an adult human. After a few moments, the flames died, leaving the girl sobbing in a tattered shirt. Artemis ripped the sleeve off. To Jarlaxle's relief, the burns weren't too severe. She would need plenty of healing potions, however.

Vaelirra started up a prayer to Lolth for healing. Behind him, several drow males carrying buckets shuffled into the room. He turned to see their confused expressions as they looked at the priestess, the child and the human.

"What--?" began one of them but Jarlaxle cut him off with a drow hand sign for silence.

"The fire is out. Bring healing potions. Now," he ordered. He dismissed them with a flick of his wrist. Then he turned back to see the girl staring up at Entreri, no longer sobbing as her wounds started to fade.

The expression on both of them was curious. For Entreri, it was an anger, but also confusion. But Kesrith showed no fear of the much larger human. Indeed, the girl was only defiant, her pale gaze boring a hole into the assassin.

Even drow children had some fear. The girl was strange. Jarlaxle felt like he was missing a piece somewhere. Something about all this didn't make sense.

"What in the Nine Hells?" he heard Entreri mutter under his breath. What in the Nine Hells, indeed, agreed Jarlaxle silently. 

Vaelirra had finished her chanting, then her face turned into a mask of rage.

"Kesrith! How could you do this? What is wrong with you?"

She turned to her mother, about to reply when her face turned a pallid grey color. Her eyes rolled up in her head and Entreri caught her before she hit the ground.


	8. Touched

"I told you. They are the ones who taught her this!" cried Vaelirra as she paced cross the room. "Do you not see why I came here? Why I had to leave that place?"

Jarlaxle sat with his boots propped up on the desk as his gaze followed the woman. Entreri sat on the other side of the room, twirling one of his daggers. He glanced up at the drow ocassionally, but seemed content to sit quietly by himself for a moment. Vaelirra must have been too upset to do so, since she hadn't objected yet to him being here, which was good because he wanted to know what the other man thought. Entreri was sharp. Perhaps after hearing her out he could get the assassin's impressions of the situation.

"You didn't say anything about children burning themselves alive. I think that is a rather important detail that you left out."

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Alright. So I left out a few things." She threw up her hand in exasperation. "I just didn't want you to think there was something wrong with her and be unwilling to help."

"Even if there was something wrong with her, I would help. You know that."

She sighed and sat down. Jarlaxle studied her face. Her large ruby eyes were distant.

There was something else that bothered him. He looked around the room. There were no candles burning. No fire burning in the fireplace.

"How did she set the fire?"

"She cast a spell."

"Truly? Then she is a sorceress?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. She's always been a strange child. She has visions as well. And can already cast minor spells. I guess that would mean that she is a sorceress, but my mother and her sect call her 'Lolth-touched, and believe her gifts are from the goddess.'"

"Ominous title for a ten-year-old girl," said Jarlaxle, blinking at her.

She smirked. "I didn't make it up. I also refuse to call her that. They've recently started calling her an oracle as well, but that is also nonsense. She is only a little girl. And yes, something happened to her in that incident, but there is no proof it is what the Melarn fools claim."

"I guess this 'incident' is one of those things you prefer to leave out?"

She rubbed her face in frustration. "Jarlaxle, I--"

"If you expect my help with all of this, then you need to explain what the problem is. The more you withhold information, the more you make it difficult for me to aid you."

Vaelirra pursed her lips. "Very well. The incident to which I was referring is the time she disappeared."

"Go on."

"She went off into the darkness one day, when she was five years old. Just wandered out of the house somehow without any guard or member of the family even noticing. There were some in the city who saw her walking past, but none of them tried to stop her. People saw her on the other side of the town, walking as if she were in a trance."

"We searched for her for a week, though we thought her dead. I believed that my sister had killed her and that the sightings were a misdirection." She looked at her hands. "But then a patrol found her ten days after her disappearance in a mushroom bed on the road out of the city. The guard knew who she was and led us to her. And not just House Del'Armgo. Other houses went to see the 'miracle' that the patrolmen claimed to have witnessed."

Her eyes met his. "A few Xorlarrins came, then the Melarns. A few others. And the Baenres came too. Quenthel Baenre herself came to see my daughter." 

"The Matron Mother of Menzoberranzan itself? And what did they see that was so fascinating?"

"One of the strangest things I have ever witnessed in the centuries of my life. Kesrith was completely unharmed, even though she was barefoot and only wearing clothes for sleeping. Somehow my daughter had walked over two miles into the Underdark alone without so much as a scratch. We all stood there and watched her. She didn't even seem to notice us." Vaelirra smoothed her hair back.

"She just ignored ignored all of you standing there staring at her? What was wrong with her?"

"She was in some sort of trance. She was singing that song for children about mushrooms. You know the one that tells which are poisonous and which aren't."

He nodded.

"But she wasn't alone. There was another there with her, playing with her. I thought it was another girl, then it turn to us and smiled. I knew then that it only took a child's form. It was a yochlol."

His eyebrows furrowed. Across the room, he noticed that Entreri was listening to her intently, no longer messing with his knife. The both of them had encountered Handmaidens of Lolth, also known as yochlols, before. Shapeshifting demons who often took the form of drow women, a yochlol was a monstrosity that should never come in contact with a child.

"I thought it was going to kill her right then and there. Right in front of my eyes." She shuddered. "If that yochlol had done something to her, none of the women there would have helped."

Jarlaxle shifted in his seat. The image of the yochlol ripping into a little girl was not a pleasant one.

"Then, instead of the demon attacking her, it just continued smiling at us and walked right past us into the dark. After that it's like Kesrith woke up. She looked around at us and asked where she was and why we were all looking at her. We took her home. I wanted to believe that she had just wondered out and gotten lucky, but it was just too strange."

"Did she ever remember what happened to her?"

"We don't know what happened to her. She is only willing to say that she met a woman made of shadows who whispered secrets to her and a man made of fire who did the same."

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "Lolth?"

But then who was the man made of fire?

"That's certainly what my mother believes. Before this, my mother had only a minor connection to the Melarn's little cult. After, mother demanded that we replace our own rituals with the Melarn ones. House Melarn believes that Kesrith is meant to be some prophetess or something. When her powers manifested it only confirmed their beliefs. My daughter was then taken from me by my mother who began to groom her to be the next matron of our house. Then mother enrolled her in that Lolth-damned school."

Frustration burned in her voice and he saw tears bloom in her eyes. She hid them by lowering her head and pretending to straighten her long hair. He allowed her to save face.

 _She loves her daughter,_ thought Jarlaxle, instantly filled with respect for the woman. Many drow were incapable of love after such brutal lives of violence and cold treachery, but Vaelirra was different. Despite being a priestess of Lolth, she hadn't been completely broken.

 _I will help her_ , he vowed. He didn't want to see Vaelirra broken, which surprised him. She was just a dalliance for him. Maybe it was just that he wanted to believe that his people were capable of something other than cruelty and fanaticism. That drow could love. Or maybe he considered her a friend.

"Now she is brainwashed," said the woman quietly. "I have to find a way to teach her the truth of Lolth. The real church of Lolth is what I believe in."

"And that is so much better than this 'heretical church' your mother aligned your house with? I suppose you want to 'un-brainwash' her and the "re-brainwash' her with the proper Lolthite beliefs."

Her eyes flashed at him. "Please spare me your blasphemy, Jarlaxle. I am still a priestess of Lolth. I still believe in Her and I will raise Kesrith to worship Her."

"Here on the surface there are many faiths which do not require _any_ sacrifice or self-mutilation. Perhaps I can provide some literature on the subject."

"No. I will not expose her to surfacer heresy. Besides, Lolth only requires _some_ sacrifices, like the sacrifice of the third son. She never requires that any of us drow mutilate or burn themselves."

"So Lolth is fine with child sacrifice, but draws the line at children burning themselves to death? Nice to know to know she has _some_ boundaries," said Entreri in perfect drow. Vaelirra whirled towards him, a shocked expression on her face.

"You taught your _iblith_ pet our tongue?" she said, scandalized.

"Actually, he taught _himself_ our language. I was quite impressed with him."

"Well, this conversation is for us. Remove him."

"This _'iblith pet'_ just saved the life of your daughter, madam. I would think you would be thankful."

Vaelirra sputtered making Jarlaxle smile.

"He is a surfacer. Get used to the surface. You might be here for a while if your visit is contingent on helping Kesrith."

Jarlaxle rose up from his desk and made for the door.

"I'll let the two of you get acquainted." 

Vaelirra rose up immediately, but he made a gesture for her to sit. 

"No. Stay here. I wish to meet with Kesrith alone."

He turned on his heel.

"Let's see if I can do something about that brainwashing, shall we?"


	9. Venom

Apprehension flooded him as he made his way up the steps to the second floor. He turned the situation around and around in his head but not only were their gaps in important information, there were pieces that simply didn't make sense. 

_In other words,_ he thought, _it has the stink of Lolth all over it._

Was this some plot by the Spider Queen herself to undo him? 

He thought of Vaelirra and the barely contained panic and sadness that she had displayed to him. The fact that his ring had indicated she was telling the truth. If he took it at face value then he could believe her. But if the Spider Queen was involved then nothing about it was that simple. Lolth could have given her some way to evade the power of his ring. And while Vaelirra wasn't very good at being a priestess, she was a spectacular actress, having spent centuries of her leisure time on the stage performing.

Jarlaxle did not worship Lolth and in truth, hated her but he gave her a modicum of respect and a wide berth. His entire operation depended upon working withing the system to create a place for those that didn't fit the harsh society of his people. The thought of having everything torn down now was appalling.

_You don't understand what this is yet he chided himself. Don't assume. You need more information._

He reached the landing at the top if the stairs and nodded towards the two guards he had posted. They saluted him 

Jarlaxle pushed the door in slowly and stifled a grin as the mercenary inside looked up wide eyed and attempted to hide the chapbook he was reading. Geleris was a capable healer, even without the aid of being a cleric, but he was entirely too obsessed with those silly chapbooks out of Waterdeep. Especially the atrocious "elven romance" variety that had to be written by humans with an intense elf fetish. He had once handed Geleris a box of them as a gift just to see what he would do and gotten a good laugh out of it.

Geleris finally managed to get his bearings and stood up to salute him.

 _Report,_ signed Jarlaxle.

_Sedated, though she could wake up soon. Used diluted sleep poison and a needle. Burns mostly healed by her mother but she'll need some treatment for scarring._

The healer reached into he pockets of his robe and produced a small empty vial.

 _For the sample,_ he signed with his free hand.

Jarlaxle nodded.

_Let me see her._

Geleris gestured for him to follow him through a door on the far side of the room. He opened it slowly, trying to not make noise.

The room was something Jarlaxle had set up as a guest quarters for when important clients and business associates visited him. Simple but immaculately clean furnishing were arranged around the perimeter of the wall, surrounding the large bed that contained the girl who was supposedly his daughter. 

For a moment, he just stood there watching her. The enormous bed swallowed her tiny frame, making her appear younger than she actually was. Her downy white lashes rested on her rounded cheeks, fluttering occasionally as she dreamed. Bandages enveloped her arm from shoulder down to her fingers. 

"She hasn't moved," said Geleris quietly. "I have a salve I'll put on her later." He nodded toward a jar of translucent greenish goo on the table beside the bed.

"Shall we?" asked Jarlaxle. 

Geleris fiddled with his robes again pulling out a tiny bone needle as the two men approached the bed. Jarlaxle watched as the healer took the hand of the girl's uninjured arm and pricked the tip of her tiny finger with the need. Holding the finger with one hand he grabbed the vial with the other and proceeded to squeeze blood into it.

By now the girl was waking up and fighting against the healer. He finished filling the vial and placed the stopper on it. 

"Kesrith?"

The girl's head turned towards Jarlaxle slightly but she glared at the healer who obviously didn't know what to do in the situation and backed away from the bed.

"I was thinking we could talk?" Jarlaxle said in a soothing tone.

He grabbed a chair on the opposite side of the room then sat it down next to the bed. He gestured for Geleris to leave and the man nodded and closed the door behind him.

Kesrith's silvery eyes rested on him now. She observed him silently, as if he were nothing more than an insignificant bug.

Jarlaxle ran over options of what to say in his mind. Nothing really seemed ideal. He didn't have a lot of experience with children, especially not little drow girls who were kept far away from any influence that might "corrupt" them against the Church of Lolth.

He settled on something simple at first.

"Does your arm hurt?"

Kesrith didn't reply but her lips drew together in a scowl.

"I have some wonderful tea and cakes downstairs. I can have some brought to you if you like."

She opened her mouth as if to speak then closed it again, still angry and turned her eyes towards the wall.

The mercenary reached forward and gently touched her shoulder, frowning as the girl flinched away from him.

"You know," said Jarlaxle. "I could help you. Your mother says some strange things have been happening around you lately. Maybe I can help you figure them out."

Kesrith turned an pinned him with her pale gaze.

"Only the Dark Mother can help me. Not you. You are a _male_. You are a heretic. Vaelirra is a heretic. And now she has dragged me up here to this cursed land of infidels."

It was the typical vitriolic nonsense that would spew from the mouth of a priestess but it felt wrong coming from a ten year old.

"Have you considered that maybe that is wrong? Perhaps someone other than Lolth can help you."

"Solenva and Vasnitra are not wrong!"

"Are those your teachers? Some of the priestesses of your house? Perhaps they are wrong so much as they do not have all the facts." He gestured towards the window. "I've been here a long time and I can say that it's actually quite pleasant up here. I've not encountered a curse upon the whole of the surface, although I am sure there are some random dungeons or ancient ruins somewhere that would have them."

"Priestess Vasnitra says there is nothing up here that will not be swallowed up by the venom of Lolth. When the time comes we will be the chosen ones to deliver that venom. Then all shall bow to her, even if they are _iblith_."

"Your mother says the school you go to doesn't follow the true Church." He looked at her arm. "That they make you hurt yourself. That certainly seems like what happened. "

"My mother--I mean--Vaelirra is a heretic." Kesrith sat up in bed and cringed as she adjusted her arm. "She brought me here and now I will become _iblith_."

"Is that what they teach you at your school? Anyhow, it doesn't work that way. You can't just become an " _iblith_ " by being here. It's not like our ears lose their points if we stay up here for a few years."

"Priestess Vasnitra said those who are touched by the _iblith_ become _iblith_ themselves. I believe her and not you." She picked at her nails. "And you are a male. You are not supposed to know about my school. We don't have any _boys_ there."

"Of course not, having nasty little boys in school with you would be simply awful! How could you learn about sacrificing people if there were _boys_ there?"

Her brow furrowed. "You are making fun of me."

"Me?" said Jarlaxle with an innocent look. "Whatever would make you believe I would do such a thing?"

The girl's serious expression didn't change. "Lolth will know if you don't believe in her. You will burn in her venom forever after you die."

"Well, I think I might have a century or two left to ponder that. Hopefully, I will get to see more of the wonders of the surface. Wouldn't you like to see that for yourself?"

She stared at him for a moment. "I do not care about the surface. I only care about going back home."

"You might go home some day, but surely there are things to see on the surface that you could tell your school friends about. Wouldn't you love to be the envy of the entire class when you tell them you've seen the ocean? Or the sky?" He leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "You know, there could be an advantage to staying on the surface for a while. I could show you a few things here. You could try out the food, see the sights. And then if you still hate it, I could arrange for you to return home." 

Kesrith just stared at him, but in her eyes there was a spark of curiosity.

 _Good,_ he thought. Jarlaxle knew not to push too hard too fast. He stood.

"I hope you will take me up on my offer. In the meantime, I want you to promise me that there will be no more fire, no more "sacrificing" and no hurting yourself or anyone else, understand? I won't have it in my house."

He turned to leave.

"You will help me return to my matron if I see these surface things and don't cast spells?"

He turned back to her and nodded. "You have my word. Now, I'll have some treats sent up to your room." 

He left the girl with a bemused expression on her face. As he walked out, Geleris looked up from his book and handed Jarlaxle the vial. Jarlaxle made his way out the door, rolling the little bottle between his fingers.

_Time to visit my brother._


	10. Blood

Gromph stared at him for so long that Jarlaxle started to wonder whether the wizard was probing his mind. After a moment, his brother's lips twisted into a smirk.

"I suppose I should be impressed you went this long without siring a bastard, given that you've rutted with half of Menzoberranzan and an entire host of miscellaneous creatures from the surface. It was bound to happen sometime." Gromph rubbed his chin. "You could do worse than Vaelirra. I mean, she _could_ have tentacles." 

Jarlaxle pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you just cast the spell?"

Gromph held out his hand, his golden eyes sparkling. He got up from behind the desk and tapped his chin with his forefinger. 

"Aha!," said the wizard and he began rummaging through the shelves.

Jarlaxle's gaze followed Gromph, then took in the room itself. His brother was certainly making himself at home in the Hosttower of The Arcane. Lambent crystals of various sizes and colors cast an eerie glow that merged with the warm light of floating candles. There were shelves all about, all warded with visible protection runes. Some held nothing but tiny drawers of neatly labeled spell components. Others held larger items. Jarlaxle spied a troll tooth next to a unicorn's horn along with the skull of some strange being that he couldn't identify. Then there were the books. New and old and in every imaginable color, condition and language the entire room was a library in of itself. He wondered at the fortune that some of them must cost.

The archmage moved past him to another shelf filled with containers. He pulled a silver plate off of the top rung then headed towards a nearby bookshelf. He pulled out a slim black volume in Draconic.Then he turned back to the wall of small drawers and began pulling items out and dumping them into the middle of the plate: blue lotus, orange peel, wyvern's blood, powdered emerald, something slimy looking that was labeled in an Abyssal tongue, frankincense, and a single white feather that faintly glowed as it landed on top of the strange pile. 

Gromph returned to his seat and placed the silver dish between them.He opened the stopper full of Kesrith's blood and poured it on top of the pile of spell components.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" 

He looked at Jarlaxle expectantly and the mercenary held out his hand. Gromph took the ivory needle and pierced his index finger, squeezing it so hard that Jarlaxle winced. A sadistic smirk played on the wizard's lips as milked his brother's finger of its blood. Jarlaxle endured as several fat crimson droplets plopped onto the plate forming a pool at its edge. Gromph then pricked his own finger and held it over the opposite side.

"What are you doing?" asked Jarlaxle.

"Making sure the child isn't mine."

Jarlaxle's eyebrow rose. Gromph rolled his eyes. 

"Please, brother. Vaelirra?" He snorted. "Who _hasn't_ been with her?"

Jarlaxle shook his head but said nothing. What Gromph said was true. Vaelirra was well coveted by every man in Menzoberranzan that preferred women and had always been one to indulge haphazardly in the pleasures of the flesh. The girl could be anyone's daughter really.

Ordinarily, he did not care who his lovers took to their beds, but something was different about this situation. But before he could analyze that sentiment he heard Gromph shuffling through the pages of the grimoire. 

He made an affirmative sound when he found the right spell. Then he held his hand over the components as he recited the words of the spell in a bizarre planar tongue that even the well educated Jarlaxle wasn't familiar with. The mercenary's face was a careful mask as he watched the plate of ingredients start to shimmer, strange runes appearing in the air above it. The components started to smoke. Then blood, _his_ blood, not Gromph's, was suddenly pulled towards the center on a tiny crimson river. The blood in the center flowed towards his own until both streams merged into a small pool.

Silence engulfed the room, save for the crackle of spent components. Jarlaxle gazed at the blood, afraid to say anything. Afraid to consider what the spell had just told him. Afraid to even consider the fury of actions to take, responsibilities to uphold. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was Gromph who broke the silence. 

"I suppose now it would be appropriate to give my congratulations."


	11. Reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kesrith relives her strange experiences in her Reverie.

_Her bare feet are cold on the black stone beneath her. But the cold, the exhaustion, the hunger are nothing compared to the fear that grips her now. They stand before her, but do not seem to notice her. In fact, Kesrith cannot understand what is happening at all. Reality seems to flit in and out of existence, from one nonsensical event to the next. Like a tapestry that was woven into a scene but has now been cut away in little bits. She manages to get her bearings enough to study the woman wreathed in shadows. She is more beautiful than anything Kesrith has ever seen. Long white hair cascades down to Her waist. A gown of purest night limned in silver embroidery clothes Her perfect form. It takes a few moments for Kesrith to notice the spiders--tiny, luminous, red ones that skitter over the woman's hair, gown and skin like mobile rubies._

_How can it be anyone but Her? They said that she could take any form, but that Her true form was more exquisite and more beautiful than any mortal could imagine.The spiders meant it was Her. Kesrith wonders whether it was Her beauty that has stunned her so much that she can't move at all. For a few panicked moments she can't tell if she is breathing or not. The terror passes however when her chest rises._

_The woman and the man are now speaking to each other in low tones. She cannot make out what any of it means however. Lolth's crimson gaze is pinned to the man and Kesrith has been so enamored of her Goddess that she has not thought to look at Him._

_He is every bit as beautiful as She is. As if a golden statue has come to life, the man shines like a beacon in the dark. His hair, eyes and armor as some variety of gold. His skin is the color of pale marble. He is like a strange mirror of the woman beside him. Tears prick at Kesrith's eyes. She doesn't want to ever have to stop looking at these beautiful elves._

_Then His gaze turns to her and she feels as if her heart has stopped. The two gods argue but the man never takes His eyes from Kesrith's terrified form._

_"You believe that this is the solution," says the man. It's more an accusation than a question._

_The woman's perfect face grimaces for a moment._

_"It is what must be done. It is what always has been done."_

_Kesrith does not grasp why she is now able to understand them. She only knows that when the woman turns to her and opens a mouth full of dripping fangs, she isn't able to scream._

_She isn't able to move at all._

_***_

Kesrith gasped as she swam back to normal consciousness. For a few moment, she could not understand where she was in the world. Sh looked around at the wooden furniture, the paintings of ships and horses on the wall. She blinked as her eyes watered up. Everything was too bright in here. Who had lit that many candles? Then she realized where she was: on the surface, in the city known as Luskan, in the house of the man her mother claimed had sired her.

And the light wasn't any candle. It was the moon. That silver circle that inhabited the night sky. It was not as bad as the sunlight, but it made her squint so much that she couldn't focus on anything.

It was bad enough that she was having the same Reverie all over again. Now she was on the surface, unable to do Lolth's bidding. The high priestess had claimed that the Goddess had marked her somehow, and that she was destined to be a powerful servant. She couldn't just neglect her duties and obligations like the woman who'd given birth to her. And she certainly couldn't just stay here with that strange Jarlaxle. She pushed herself up to the side of the bed and grimaced. Her arm was still not fully healed.

"Pain is sacrifice," she whispered under her breath. It was the teachings of her school's high priestess. When there wasn't a suitable sacrifice available, then your own pain and your own blood was enough to quench the Goddess. Enough to not fall into heresy. Of course, Vaelirra had told her that cutting yourself was heresy against the true church of Lolth. Kesrith didn't believe Vaelirra. 

She could find a little knife somewhere, give Lolth her blood and then maybe she would get out of here. But she would have to be careful. One of the girls at her school, Yelaena, had cut too deep and died. Priestess Liriyalla had let the girl bleed out all over the floor in front of them. She'd been from a lower house and her mother wouldn't have much power to complain.

Still, it would be easier to just convince the man named Jarlaxle to just take her home. Kesrith knew Vaelirra couldn't be reasoned with anymore.

She had decided her course. She would go and see surface things with Jarlaxle and then he would take her home where she could be the Oracle again, and eventually a matron mother.

She stood up and looked around for her clothing. Something on the bedside table caught her eye. It was a small velvet box a bit longer than her hand. She went over and opened it. Inside were a pair of spectacles with darkened lenses wrapped in a piece of parchment. Kesrith donned the dark glasses and looked around the room. It was considerably dimmer and much easier to make out everything. She opened the note.

> _Kesrith, I know the light is harsh at first, so I got you something to make your stay here a little more pleasant. -- Jarlaxle  
>  _

She blinked at the note a few moments, then crumpled it up and threw it across the room. Surely he had some slaves to take care of it. She had to admit that she liked the glasses. They would make it easier to endure whatever the mercenary had in mind for her. 

And if he didn't take her home afterwards, Kesrith would make him regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a complete outline of this story and have just realized that its probably not going to follow the recent books all that much. Other than a few ideas and the fact that more drow are openly walking in Luskan it really doesn't follow that last parts of the series. Drizzt won't show up at all. Also it takes some from War of the Spider Queen and even the Liriel Baenre books (possibly even the Evermeet Island of Elves novel.) I have had this idea for several years and before I read the last 8-10 books in the Drizzt series, so this is an AU and hopefully everyone is fine with that.
> 
> All that matters is that more drow are openly living on the surface because drow life sucks in the Underdark.


	12. Redcaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Jarlaxle goes to find someone to help Dahlia, Artemis learns about Kesrith's life with Vaelirra.

Artemis Entreri was usually a patient man. But as the clock ticked on hours after Jarlaxle had left to find Kimmuriel, Artemis found himself pacing around the house. He wanted to do anything but dwell on the problem of Dahlia. The office had nothing interesting to do. The shelves were full of books, but all of it quite dull--reports, chronicles of current affairs and so on. One would think that as flamboyant as Jarlaxle was he would at least indulge in some more exciting reading material.

So on Artemis went. The kitchens were first, where he startled a maid after pilfering a hunk of bread and a bottle of wine. He apologized then made his way to the drawing room. He'd been here a couple of times and it at least had a few more books in it. If nothing else, he could sit at one of the tables and amuse himself with some cards.

The sun was setting as he walked in, streaming orange light through the room from the wall of windows that overlooked the garden.

Before he could find a seat, he heard a shuffle, then a moan. He wasn't alone in here.

He placed the bread on the table and placed his hand over the knife on his belt as he crept around the couch to see who was there.

Vaelirra sprawled over the couch. Her mouth gaped open. A snarl of white hair tangled over her face. Several bottles of liquor and wine were sitting on the table in front of her, along with a suspicious pile of grey powder and a small jar of redcap mushrooms. Artemis went over and pushed her hair away from her eyes. Half-lidded orbs regarded him dully. He pulled at one of her eyelids and saw that her pupils were so dilated that only a tiny ring of scarlet remained around the black center.

She groaned and tried to grab at his hand but missed by a couple of feet. She slurred some curses in the drow language.

Artemis turned to the table and examined the drugs on it. Redcaps were a common narcotic found in the Underdark. He'd even tried it a couple of times, but the subsequent nightmares and vomiting had killed the pleasure he'd gotten out of it. The white powder was either spider's bite or opium, or some mixture of the two. He'd done both before as well, and had even developed a little habit for a while before he realized how foolish he was being. If this drow woman was doing all of these drugs at the same time and chasing it with wine, she was far deeper into her addiction than he had ever been.

He pressed his finger to the side of her neck feeling for a pulse. It was sluggish but strong, so it seemed that Vaelirra hadn't overdone it.

He heard the soft patter of footsteps in the hall. He glanced at the door. Standing outside staring at him was the little drow girl. She was dressed in a clean red tunic and leggings. Long silver braids fell behind each of her pointed little ears. Bandages covered the arm she had burned. Curiously, she was wearing some sort of darkened spectacles.

The two of them just stared at each other for a moment.

Then she turned her head towards her mother.

She grimaced and stomped into the room.

"Move, slave!" said the girl as she stomped right up to him. Her little face furrowed up at him, her scrawny little arms on her hips. "Go," said the girl pointing with her teeny little finger. "And stand over there!"

Artemis Entreri chuckled.

"They start 'em out early don't they?" he muttered and and shook his head. Drow children were cloistered away in their houses for the most part, so Entreri had little experience with them. Though he knew the boys were treated as domestic servants during their childhood, he hadn't known much about drow girls. It didn't surprise him that this one acted like a little tyrant. 

The child gaped at the audacity of him.

"You are making fun of me, _iblith._ "

"Aye, I am."

" _Stop_ making fun of me. I am trying to wake up Vaelirra."

Artemis gave her an exaggerated bow. "As you wish, mistress."

That seemed to satisfy her for the moment. She turned to her mother and frowned, then looked to the table. She reached out and shook her the woman but Vaelirra just groaned and uttered some muffled nonsense too distorted to make out.

"Did she take too much?" she asked Artemis, her big eyes looking up at him. 

"I don't know how much she has taken," he said. He reached down and grabbed the small glass jar of redcaps. There were still around half left, so the woman had taken a considerable dose. "I don't know if she has taken too much, but I do know that she drank wine with it. That is not good." 

Vaelirra's eyes stared into nothing, while her mouth gaped open. She'd begun to drool a bit as well. Kesrith tried to stay stoic, and was doing a good job for a ten year old, but her eyes radiated concern and fear for her mother.

_Nine Hells,_ thought Entreri.

"Does your mother do this often?"

The girl hung her head and stared at her fidgeting hands. "All the time. And she is not my mother, you know. She is Vaelirra, and I am now the daughter of the matron mother."

It was a shame. Children of addicts always suffered, regardless of race. Every sort of predator targeted them. In Kesrith's case, religious zealots had smelled blood. And Vaelirra couldn't protect her if she was always wasted on mushrooms.

"Do you want Vaelirra to die?"

Kesrith's little lip trembled. "No," she said quietly. "I'll still need her when I'm a matron."

Artemis smiled at her. Kesrith was no doubt spoiled, but she was still only a child who needed her mother. And despite Vaelirra's faults, she had at least tried to take her child away from the nightmare of Menzoberranzan.

"So, how about this? I take this and this away," he said holding up the bottle of wine and the jar of mushrooms."I'll give it to Jarlaxle when he gets back." He noticed she was holding her bandaged arm. "Are you alright?"

She nodded.

"You and me can sit over there. You know sava?"

"Yes."

"We'll play that while we watch Vaelirra."

Artemis placed a pillow under Vaelirra's head then walked over to sit at the table.

The girl stared at the woman who'd birthed her for a few minutes then sat opposite of him.

"You are really smart for a slave."

Artemis chuckled as he laid out his pieces onto the board.


	13. Network

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarlaxle receives information.

"How long will it take her to get here?"

Jarlaxle leaned into his chair in the private room of the One-Eyed Jax and propped his fancy, purple leather boots on the table.

Valas Hune shrugged.

"With that one, who knows? Perhaps she'll hear a voice in her head telling her to jump off the Spine of the World and we won't have to deal with her anymore."

Jarlaxle rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that Valas had a point. Dahlia Sin'felle was unstable at best, and there was really no telling what she might do next. This was even after having Kimmuriel rifle through her brain. Or maybe that had made her worse. Jarlaxle knew that his people had done her wrong when she had been taken to the Underdark and used in some awful scheme of the matron mothers to lure Drizzt to Menzoberranzan. 

He felt pity for the woman. Who wouldn't? but he had to admit that in the blackest part of his little drow heart he envied her. Specifically, he envied the affection that a certain assassin had for her. And because of this he felt sorely tempted to dispose of her somehow. It could be done easily, and in a way that Entreri might not suspect. After all, despite his flamboyance and complete disregard for the rules of the matron mothers, Jarlaxle was still a drow and had all the capacity for violence and deception that any drow had. He had just decided to make different choices in life that had led him to this place.

And this was why he would find the mad elf woman and restore her to his friend as gently as possible.

Of course, that would mean that Entreri would leave again, and he would find himself lacking a handsome dark-haired assassin to tease and manipulate.

Jarlaxle sighed. He'd realized long ago that he couldn't control the man. But somehow Entreri always ended up coming back, a sign that Jarlaxle would prefer to interpret as the assassin liking him at least a little. Or maybe it was just that Bregan D'aerthe was a convenient network for dubious figure like him.

"We don't know if she will come here. She is in a town around 40 miles to the south. I'll have my scouts keep and eye out."

Jarlaxle snapped his attention back to his associate.

"Ah, yes. Good. But tell them not engage her. That pole of hers is deadly."

Valas nodded.

There are also other things I think you should know." Valas pulled a scroll from his pocket and unfurled it. "I received this from one of our birds a few hours ago. I don't know if it's anything but I thought it best to keep an eye on it."

Jarlaxle took the scroll from him and cast a cantrip that would reveal the hidden writing. Letters flitted to life on the parchment, glowed and then settled into a fine, elegant scrawl.

> _Valas, we've been watching some of the darthiir clans out of Neverwinter wood. We followed one of the surface elves to a tavern while in disguise. Said he stalked a female drow through the woods, but let her go because she disappeared with an invisibility spell. There aren't any female Bregan D'aerthe down here at the moment with the characteristics that the elf mentioned, so it wasn't one of ours. A few days after that the elves were in an uproar again. Apparently, some more drow were in their forest and they fought. Only injuries, no deaths. The drow fled towards the north. I'm following Jarlaxle's orders and staying out of sight. These drow aren't ours. Hopefully they won't cause trouble for Luskan.  
>  _

So his people were wandering around Neverwinter wood, somehow. This wasn't good news. It could just be a surface raid that was unsuccessful. Sometimes drow scouted the surface looking for new resources. This felt different somehow though. Could it be someone trying to track down Vaelirra and Kesrith. There were openings to the Underdark that were accessible by some of the major drow roads and it didn't surprise him that searchers would be looking there. If Matron Mez'Barriss Armgo really was convinced that Kesrith was something special, she'd likely not hesitate to sent a search part after her.

And House Barrison del'Armgo was not something he wanted to fight. They were the second house, but they'd achieved their rank though cunning and brutal ruthlessness. But at this point he didn't know if he had a choice. Kesrith was his child. Gromph had proven it to him. He had only just now realized he was a father. He had only begun to understand what that meant. And if they took his daughter away from him, he would never get to be her father. Instead, she would become another cruel, brainwashed servant of Lolth and would be lost to him forever.

"Valas, the gate that Kesrith and Vaelirra came through, I want it closed for now. If there is a pressing need we can open it back up. We need to give some misdirection to these drow. I want you to sow rumors that Vaelirra and Kesrith have gone to the south, towards Baldur's Gate." 

Valas lifted a brow at this but only nodded his head. "As you wish." Then the scout disappeared into the shadows, no doubt with the aid of one of his many magical artifacts.

Jarlaxle pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Hopefully, Valas wouldn't betray him. He would normally not question the loyalty of his scout, who had proven to be one of his best men in the whole company, but the stakes for this were so high.

_High enough to go to war with House Barrison del'Armgo?_

The thought caught him off guard and he chuckled.

Would he attempt to war with them? Despite his success and his power, he didn't really think he could defeat them. He would need allies, and of course the principle ally would be the house of his birth, House Baenre. And what would Matron Quenthel do when she discovered that Kesrith is one of her house? Would she let the golden child, this "Oracle of Lolth" go? Not likely.

He shook his head and sipped his ale.

"Already the worrying father," he said, to no one in particular.


	14. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarlaxle discovers something about Vaelirra.

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time the mercenary made his way home. He balanced the bags he had on his arm as he unlocked the door then drifted through his house. A heavy scent of spices and cooking meat made his stomach growl. His cook must be preparing something for them. They always made the most delicious food, even going so far as to learn drow recipes to please him and his men. He'd have to give them a raise sometime this year he reminded himself. 

Of course the tiny cakes in the bag in his arm would be delicious after dinner. Or before. He'd bought them for Kesrith, one of "surface things" that he has intended to show her. Drow had access to flour, of course, especially the wealthy houses, as they traded for it. Bregan D'aerthe had been instrumental in getting more of it down into the lightless land and bread had become more popular in the last century. But drow weren't bakers in the way these surfacers were. They didn't have the same skill with it and never attempted to make the wide variety of products with flour that humans made. Though he had found a shop in Mezoberranzan that made some pretty odd concoctions, including a flaky meat pie that included snails and fish eggs.

He drifted through the house, checking his office first and saw that Entreri was gone. He could've went back to the inn, but Jarlaxle would look for his old companion in the house anyways. He searched the house a little while longer until he heard some faint speech in the drawing room.

After a few moments of listening with his keen ears, Jarlaxle recognized the voice as Kesrith's. She was talking to Entreri, a gruff voice he would recognize anywhere.

He decided to see what the two of them could possibly be talking about.

"Your Mother piece could've moved just then, you know," said the girl.

Entreri grunted.

"But now your Wizard is going to fall."

the assassin chuckled. "And so it is."

"You are not taking this seriously."

"Well, mistress, you've beaten me fairly multiple times. I think you have proven that you are better than me."

"You could try. You aren't trying hard enough."

He heard the ivory pieces clack against the board.

"There," said his daughter. "Wizard dead. Now your Mother is going to die."

Entreri gave a low chuckle.

Jarlaxle padded into the room softly in time to see Entreri, Mother piece in hand, make his way across the board destroying all of Kesrith's pieces and winning the game.

THe girl's jaw dropped.

"B-but you!"

Entreri was fully laughing at this point.

"You are good, I'll give you that. But never get too confident." He had a rare smile on his face that reached his eyes. Ah, it was a wonderful sight to see, that smile. Jarlaxle wished he could be greeted everyday with it. Alas, taht was something that was more likely to happen in fantasy than reality.

As for the child she still had an appalled look on her face and was studying the board as if trying to figure out how a human of all things could have possibly beaten her that way.

He activated his boots, the magic ones that could either make a lots of noise or be completely silent and strode into the room, the heels clopping against the fine hardwood floor.

The two of them looked up.

Kesrith got out of her chair, her eyes slightly wide, her expression a carefully practiced seriousness that looked wrong on a girl that young. Jarlaxle noticed that she was now completely ignoring Entreri, in the way that drow often treated those they saw as slaves.

So Kesrith would speak to a human and even play a game with them if other drow weren't around to see. Interesting.

"I-I was playing sava with this iblith. Vaelirra is not well." She nodded her head towards the couch and Jarlaxle turned his head to see. Indeed, Vaelirra was sprawled out on the couch unconscious. He could smell the scent of alcohol when he stepped closer, as well as the faint scent of the pungeant smelling redcap mushrooms. So Vaelirra was using again. Jarlaxle was obviously not as informed as he should have been about her. He'd thought she'd kicked this little habit a century ago. Apparently, she was using again, and so badly that she was now passed out among complete strangers, leaving her small daughter alone.

He shook his head.

"How long has she been out?" He leaned down to observe her breathing. Her chest thankfully rose and fell steadily, but she'd taken enough to knock her out, which was no small feat for an elf.

"It was a little after midday when we found her. She is still unconscious. We watched her but her breathing is fine," said Entreri.

Jarlaxle's people didn't tolerate drug addiction the way some of the surfacers did. It was seen as a profound weakness and matron mothers often killed anyone in their house who became addicted to drugs or alcohol. Mez'Barris Armgo must not know about Vaelirra's habits, or else she would have likely already been sacrificed to Lolth. Most drow addicts were left to die or became murder victims, but there had been a treatment devised at some point. A series of alchemical tinctures and elixirs were used to purge the body of the offending substance. It was known as being quite unpleasant. 

He walked over to the door and rang a small bell. It echoed through the house despite its diminuitive size. After a few moments, a drow male walked in. 

"Azoth, retrieve Geleris." The mercenary nodded and left. 

In the morning he would allow Geleris to start the purge, if he had the available supplies. 

He realized that in other situations, he simply wouldn't have done such a thing. He'd had some of his men succumb to redcaps or liquor before, but he'd never tried to help them recover. He'd just put them in a position where they had less responsibilities, such as stocking things for him. He had put a few out of their misery before, but they'd been too far gone to help.

No, doing this for Vaelirra was unprecedented. He pondered that for a bit as he waited for the healer to arrive. It's because of the child, he decided. He wouldn't let Vaelirra drug herself into a stupor when Kesrith was right here and needed her. Their daughter. And she was the target of some religious fanatics for brainwashing. NO he'd not let this go on. Recovery was the price for letting Vaelirra stay. 

Geleris the healer arrived shortly. He instructed the man to examine his ex-lover and keep her alive.

"Come, Kesrith. Dinner is almost ready. And I have a gift for you after."

His daughter looked up at him for a moment as if wondering whether to trust him or not. Then she shrugged and followed him into the dining room.

Jarlaxle sat at the head of the fine mahogany dinner table, one that he had had custom made in Waterdeep, with intricate elven style inlays of mother of pearl and ebony that limmed the edges. Entreri and Kesrith sat across from each other and on either side of him.

As his servants brought out the food, Jarlaxle began to tell Entreri about Dahlia.

"She is fine, but we will have to catch her. I've already called Kimmuriel from the Underdark to try and alleviate some of her mental distress again," he said as he speared a piece of tender meat with his fork and bit into it. He made a big show of enjoying the food and winked at Kesrith as she studied him. She wasn't eating her own. 

Entreri who also wasn't eating had cringed at the mention of Kimmuriel. The psionicist elf wasn't the most pleasant person to be around. 

"I'm sure you don't want Kimmuriel rummaging around in your lover's brain, but I am not sure what other help I can offer." He sipped some wine and leaned back. "I know that there are asylums in Waterdeep that restrain those poor souls who suffer from madness. But there are no such facilities in Luskan, and drow are certainly no expert in healing the mad. We mostly just kill them. " He rubbed his chin for a moment thinking. "Or keep them around for entertainment. There was this one drow woman who belonged to a circus once--" 

Artemis Entreri held up a hand to stop him. "Please," he said shaking his head in exasperation. "No Underdark horror stories." 

Jarlaxle grinned. "As you wish."

The three of them were silent for a few moments. Entreri had started to clean his plate with military precision, scraping every bite into an enourmous pile then shoveling every crum into his mouth as if he would be called away at any moment, while Jarlaxle continued to savor his food. Kesrith picked at her plate and only managed to eat a couple of mushrooms. 

"Perhaps you might have to face the fact that Dahlia may need to have her memories completely destroyed in order to stop her insanity," said Jarlaxle, his voice gentle and low. 

Entreri dropped his fork and lifted his eyes to glare at the drow for a moment, then there was a sadness in his eyes. The assassin knew that it could very well be a possibility that he would have to consider. Jarlaxle didn't envy him. Removing Dahlia's memories would destroy the person she was. She wouldn't remember Entreri anymore and may no longer want to be with him. THis didn't truly bother Jarlaxle himself, but he didn't want to see Entreri hurt after he had found a little bit of happiness. 

The assassin chugged his wine until it was empty. "And of course she would forget everything. Even me." His voice dripped with bitterness. "But maybe it is for the best. If Dahlia's pain could end forever, then wouldn't it be worth it? Would I have to right to stop that for her? Would she want to end her misery?" 

"I suppose that is a decision that you may have to make if it comes to it." 

"And then she would be gone," Entreri said in a voice so quiet that Jarlaxle was sure that he hadn't meant for him to hear it. "And I would be alone again."

"You wouldn't be alone," said Jarlaxle, meeting the other man's gaze. "I would be right here in Luskan."

The assassin regarded him, staring into his eyes so long that Jarlaxle felt his face heat. A brief expression passed over Entreri's face but it was gone so fast that the drow hadn't had a chance to interpret it. 

"Well," he said, clapping his hands together and ending that intense moment. "Now that dinner is over with, I have some activities lined up for this evening."

He stared over at his daughter who had been watching the exchange but didn't understand anything the two men said as she only spoke drow. 

"Come Kesrith, we are going to take a walk on the beach."


	15. The Salty Snail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drisinil makes her move.

  
Drisinil Armgo sighed and took a sip of her ale and nearly spat it out. It was the worst ale she had ever tasted, but was probably the best thing in this establishment. Ordinarily, Drisinil wouldn't be caught dead in a filthy place like The Salty Snail, but it had it's uses, especially for more discrete matters needed to be conducted away from the eyes and ears of the matron mothers. She waved a waiter over and ordered a glass of water, hoping that water at least wouldn't taste like rothe piss. A few moments later the waiter placed a clear glass of lukewarm water on the table as Drisinil scanned the room.

There were a bunch of rowdy drow a few tables over who were entirely too loud as they played cards. One of them apparently lost and laid down their hand leading to the others breaking out in boisterous laughter. A couple of prostitutes, one male and one female,flirted with the patrons, hoping to attain clients for the night. The hateful old drow man that owned the place glared around at the patrons at the table. Always scowling, Davros T'Zhunrit wasn't pleasant to look at or be around, but that was fine in Drisinil's book. Too many drow in Menzoberranzan were sycophants who tried to present themselves as something other than what they actually were.

Of course, Drisinil could never present herself as anything above what she was now. The whole damned city knew of her failure, her disgrace, and none of them would ever let her live it down. More than a century ago now, she had plotted against Quenthal Baenre, who had at the time been the mistress of Arach-Tinilith, the academy that created the Lolthite priesthood. She'd been found out and severely punished, even having her fingers cut off so she couldn't do spells. She'd never be able to officially finish her training as a priestess either. Her mother treated her like she was little more than a slave and had nearly killed her when she had made her way home from the academy and had to tell her mother she'd been banished. Even though the plot was her mother's idea in the first place, Drisinil had been blamed for everything. Eventually, Drisinil had found a way to regenerate her fingers and had began an informal study of the ways of Lolth. Just because that bitch Quenthel had decided to take something from her didn't mean that Lolth wanted it taken. But there had still been the stigma that she had to deal with, and her mother's obsession.

There was nothing more her mother hated than House Baenre, and she would do anything to stop them. Every move that her house had made in the past three hundred years had been to bring down Baenre, whether that move was rational or intelligent. 

She sipped her water and frowned. Her mother would do anything indeed, even tie their house to a bunch of fanatical heretics. Just a few years ago, Mez'Barriss Armgo had, under the consultation of those Melarnist fanatics, taken her sisters out of the line of succession and had instead installed her youngest sister's little girl as her heir. The others in the house couldn't believe it, and she had joined them in their attempts on the child's life. The attempts had been unsuccessful so far. The last one had lead to the death of Taayruul's adolescent daughter. Mez'Barriss had burned her alive. All because Mez'Barriss and her new cult believed that Vaelirra had a special child.

Drisinil had a hard time believing that the girl was somehow chosen of Lolth or that her "visions" were anything more than some epileptic fit. Vaelirra was known for indulging in whatever drugs she could find, and Drisinil had no evidence that she had her vices under control when she was with child. There were rumors of deformities and afflictions in the babies of women who used redcaps frequently. Any woman indulging in such things would keep it a secret, of course, and blame their defective children on some poisoning by their rivals. Vaelirra was too powerless to have many rivals to begin with. 

Sure, there had been that tale that the girl had walked out into the Underdark by herself and played with a Handmaiden of Lolth in the form of a child, but how could any of that possibly be true? It wasn't the way that she had ever known Lolth to work. In her opinion, it was more likely that it was some scheme by that Quenthel Baenre and her cursed house to infiltrate the only family in the city who could ever pose a realistic threat to them. Vaelirra would've been easy to pay off. Her pathetic sister racked up debts , a detail her mother hadn't paid any attention to. No doubt these debts were related to her her nasty little habit as well as her uncontrollable spending. 

_When I am matron mother, I will keep better control over my kin,_ thought Drisinil.

Yes, it would be a hard climb, but one day she would make it. As the eldest child, whether she was disgraced or not made no difference. Taayruul was the favored daughter at the moment but their matron had alienated her when she had made that brat Kesrith her heir, then murdered Taayruul's own teenage daughter. Her mother might not see it, but Taayruul would never truly be on Mez'Barriss' side again. That left the elder sister to take control of the situation that was quickly becoming untenable. 

The scraping of a chair on stone startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see the figure of a drow male, dressed in black leathers sit down across from her. 

Without speaking the male held his gloved hand out and lifted a brow at her, his crimson eyes regarding her with wariness.

She rolled her eyes and pulled the fat pouch of coins from her belt. She tossed it to him.

"Information."

"Vaelirra Armgo is with Jarlaxle at the present moment, along with her daughter."

Drisinil couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

"And so she is a traitor to her house in association with Bregan D'aerthe." The mercenary band, in her opinion, was given entirely too much leeway, though it was rumored that they had strong ties to the First House and therefore many weaker houses looked the other way. 

The man's face twitched. Though he was Bregan D'aerthe, the man had been a lover of hers in her youth and remained loyal to her, perhaps in some futile hope that she would invite him into her bed again.

"Of course, there are those within Bregan D'aerthe that are true followers of the will of Lolth, including the present company." Drisinil gestured towards the man with her glass and took a sip of water. Once business was finished she would leave this hole and find a real tavern.

"Do you have any orders, mistress?"

Drisinil rubbed her chin as she thought. 

"For the moment, keep a watch over them. I want a report on everything they are doing. Is Vaelirra using redcaps?"

The man lifted a brow. "My source says that she has a stash of them."

"More evidence to be used against her," she muttered. Yes, even something as simple gathering evidence against her idiot sister would help push her case against the Melarn heretics. The church of Lolth, and the Baenres by default, would have overwhelming evidence that the lunatics were pushing off some afflicted child as a prophet and would be forced to kill her and everyone in that Lolth-forsaken cult. 

The man didn't reply. Instead, he pulled out a map and a piece of parchment with some shorthand on it. She took it from him and studied it. 

Her eyes widened. 

"And they are in this Neverwinter forest?" asked Drisinil. 

He nodded. 

"Then they are after the girl." 

"If Vaelirra has gone to Jarlaxle for protection, he won't give them up. " 

Drisinil huffed. 

"Jarlaxle would be easily taken care of."

The male's eyes widened for a moment before he controlled his expression. Perhaps he didn't want his employer to be killed?

"But it's not necessary to eliminate him. I really don't care what he does. I'm more interested in my sister and that whelp of hers." A small conspiratorial smiled played at her lips. "Of course, there are always a myriad of dangers on the surface for a young drow. It would be a _shame_ if something happened to a poor little child like Kesrith."

The male drow cocked his head to the side.

"It could even be something completely ordinary, like a careless human or something that doesn't even touch your precious employer."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

Drisinil watched the mercenary leave and waited a few moments before standing up herself. Now to find a tavern that didn't serve swill. Her business at the Salty Snail was done and she wouldn't be leaving a tip.


	16. Black Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarlaxle spends time with his daughter.

The man and the girl trudged along the cobblestone streets in silence. The city of Luskan was quiet now, in this time after midnight. Few windows were illuminated with candles. Storefronts were locked tight and warded against thieves. The Taverns were in full operation, however, and occasionally they passed some revelers who called out a greeting to Jarlaxle. He yelled greetings back at them in the common tongue whichKesrith had to walk faster to match his easy stride, a fact that was starting to annoy her.

Though it wasn't dark by any standards of the drow, the city looked even uglier at night, she thought. And this old male drow was so proud of it and wanted her to see it.

But there weren't the glowing sculptures anywhere. There weren't glittering castles carved out of stalagmites. There wasn't the ever present hymns of the priestesses drifting through the city. Instead there was a whole lot of stinking filthy humans and stinking filthy animals that Jarlaxle had told her were called "horses".

Kesrith throught riding lizards were better.

Jarlaxle obviously wanted her to be impressed with this, but it was just uncomfortable and disgusting to her. No wonder the priestesses of older times wanted them to kill off the "iblith." No wonder the most common word for them meant literal filth.

Her little leather shoes click-clacked across hard, uneven stone but Kesrith began to hear something more than the bellowing of old pirates and the barking of dogs.

A shushing sound was off in the distance. Unlike anything she had heard before, the sound fascinated her. She stopped walking for a moment and cupped her little ear. 

The sound was constant and she realized she had been hearing it the whole time she'd been here. It had just been in the background and she had believed it was the wind.

A few steps ahead, her "father" stopped and looked back. 

"What is it Kesrith?" he asked.

For a moment, she just stared up at him. She didn't really know why she was going along with this male's schemes but he seemed like he wouldn't punish her severely like her aunts and the priestesses at her school did. 

"There is a sound." She cupped her little ear to hear it again. "It is getting louder but I have heard it for a long time."

He knelt down beside her and smiled. Something about the smile made her feel warm and safe, though that was silly. No one and nothing was ever really safe, like her grandmother had said.

He could be using some sort of mind magic on her to get her to trust him. 

"Kesrith?" He was looking at her with raised brows. "You mentioned a sound."

"Ah... it goes like shhhh....shhhhh shhhh. Like that. All the time."

He had a bemused expression on his face and his head cocked to the side, the giant red feather of his funny hat drifting in the gentle breeze.

Then light came into his eyes and his face lit with a grin. 

"That sound," he said, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. "Is just what I've brought you here to see."

"Really? Is it a beast? At first I thought it was a waterfall but it sounds odd for that."

"Well, it's certainly not a beast of any kind," he laughed. "But a waterfall is pretty close to the mark."

He offered his arm and after a moment Kesrith realized he wanted her to hold onto it or something. She placed her hand on his forearm then Jarlaxle bent down and showed her the way. Apparently, she was supposed to hook her arm through it. Jarlaxle informed her that it was the way that surfacer ladies and gentlemen walked. 

Not that she had any need to understand the customs of savages living on the World Above.

He lead her on until the buildings grew sparser and a bunch of wooden platforms appeared everywhere. The sloshing sound grew louder and then Kesrith realized that it had been water all along. 

The moon cast a strange silver glow to everything. 

The two of them made their way across the wooden boards - the pier, Jarlaxle informed her, and then down a set of steps. There was a great deal of white sand all over the place, and long thin shoots of grass pushed up through it. 

Off in the distance, black waves curled to meet the sand then pulled out again. A lake? Menzoberranzan had a lake, though Kesrith had to admit it never sloshed all over the shore and back out again all day.

They padded out onto the sand and then Jarlaxle stopped about halfway to the water. He flung his hands out in a grand gesture.

"Here it is! The sea!"

Puzzled, Kesrith looked at him, then at the water.

"...It is... water?"

Jarlaxle nodded enthusiastically.

Kesrith looked out at the sea again. She had to admit that she had never seen so much water, nor had she ever seen any of it flowing in and out against the shore. The great lake of Menzoberranzan was enormous, but you could see across to the other side. This didn't seem to have another side. 

They stood like that for a few minutes, with only the waves breaking through the awkward silence.

"It is big," said Kesrith finally.

"Yes it is," said Jarlaxle. His former enthusiasm seemed to have faltered and his voice was quieter.

She looked away from the ocean and up at him. He was looking down at her with an odd expression on his face.

"Kesrith, you know you are my daughter, correct?"

She shrugged. The truth is that it didn't matter who her father was. The only people who should ever matter were her matron mother and the priestesses. 

"Am I to take it that you don't care about that?"

She shook her head. "You are male."

That should have settled it but he knelt before her so that their faces were on the same level.

"I do not think that your mother is capable of taking care of you anymore. She is sick. She is very addicted to redcaps and other things."

He didn't have to tell her that. She'd been there many times when her mother was passed out on the floor. He had never been anywhere around so why did it matter what he thought? Her grandmother would teach her everything she needed to know. Her grandmother would make her priestess, then she would never need anyone or anything but Lolth. 

"This school that you are a part of, it is very unorthodox. I do not think it is healthy to return you to it."

Kesrith blinked at him as his words registered in her mind. Then her little brow furrowed in anger.

"You are male. I do not have to do as you say. I _will_ be priestess!"

"I do not think it is healthy to return you to it," he repeated as if she hadn't said anything. "You are here and that means that you are beholden to the rules here."

Kesrith tried not to let her mouth gape open. Did this mean he wouldn't return her? That she would never go home?

"I make the rules here. And that means that I won't allow my only child to be carted off to an institution that teaches children to kill themselves."

"You are not my father!" Kesrith screamed and tried to wriggle away from him but his grip on her shoulders held her firmly.

"Fortunately or unfortunately, I _am_ your father and I do have authority here." 

Kesrith was ready to run from him. She needed to be anywhere but here, with anyone but him. She wanted nothing more than to elude his grasp, but before she could pull herself from him a strange thing happened. Something-no _someone_ -stepped out of the shadows right behind her father and lunged. The flash of the blade in the moonlight seemed to catch his attention and before she could even understand what was happening the assassin was dead or dying, dark blood seeping into the sand. 

She forgot her desire to escape as Jarlaxle bent over the body. It was a human, his pale skin luminous in the moonlight. He searched the man's clothing and pulled out an amulet of some kind. It was a circle of black stone rimmed at the outer edges with a purple ring.

"Church of Shar?" said her father aloud.

"That is correct," said a man's voice. The father and daughter looked up to see a man there, dressed similarly to the one he had killed, standing alongside Vaelirra.

"Hello, Jarlaxle. I think it is time for Kesrith to come with us. A new goddess awaits her," said Vaelirra. 


	17. Lady of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations from Vaelirra

Jarlaxle ran his hand down his face in frustration. 

"So this was all just a way to use me to meet up with your pleasant little friends." His gaze rolled over Vaelirra, who sat across from him in the study.

"Oh, don't be so surprised, Jarlaxle. You couldn't have truly thought that I was so desperate that I'd come groveling at your door. I had a purpose in coming here." She sipped her wine and studied his face for a moment. Her expression softened a bit, reminding him of the last time they'd spent lovemaking. "I'm glad I got to see you. But this is more than about your feelings or our former affair."

He shook his head. "So you just plan to run in with a child you claim is mine, pretend to be a victim in need of protection, then take her and leave when your friends show up, never to be seen again?"

"But she _is_ yours-"

"Oh I know she is," he snapped. "Because I confirmed it."

Vaelirra smirked. "Of course you did. Of course you would. We just had to get Gromph in on this, didn't we." Her eyes turned hard but her mouth spread in a beautiful smile that had lure no doubt dozens of men into her web-including him. "You do know I thought she was his at first?"

"Yes I have surmised that you and he were an item. I also know about your little addiction." Jarlaxle rolled his eyes. "I don't care about that. And frankly, darling, while our dalliance was certainly pleasant, I could have any woman, or man for that matter, that I want." He layed his hands on the table fingers spread as he stared her dead in the eyes. "I am interested in Kesrith now. She is just as much my child as she is yours. I have the right and the duty to be her father. I will not let you take her away. Especially when you cannot even control yourself."

"Control myself? Because I enjoying indulging myself a little, then I am out of control?"

"When you indulge yourself so much that you leave her unsupervised, then yes you are out of control."

"I am not talking about this with you. I am grateful for your help. But I will be leaving soon. And Kes will be leaving with me."

"You don't know what is going to happen, Vaelirra! And you can't just take her away. I have a right to be in her life. I have paternal rights."

Her face incredulous, Vaelirra just blinked at him for a few moments. "I guess they are right when they say that drow who come up to the surface for a while have bizarre notions. You are a male, Jarlaxle. You sired her, yes. But you will never have any say in her destiny. It doesn't matter what these savages do or how they run their households. I am not one, nor is Kesrith. If you fancy yourself to be one, then that is none of my business, except that I would prefer to limit your influence over her."

"And what will you do with her? Sell her to the Shadovar? You can't believe that Shar is somehow better than Lolth."

"I know that Shar is better. I have felt her. Kesrith will be taught the ways of Shar. I couldn't teach her down there without my mother and sisters finding out. There are drow who worship her now. More and more our people are falling away from Lolth. Shar is making her move to take our people from the Spider Queen and I believe that Kes is a part of that plan."

"So Kesrith, our daughter, will be used somehow by this goddess and her agents? How exactly is this any different from what your mother is doing?"

Vaelirra rose up from the table and slapped him. "Never compare me to that _bitch_! Really Jarlaxle, I have nothing more to say to you about this."

Jarlaxle was going to argue again but the door open and Valas rushed in.

"Kesrith is gone. So are the Shadowvar agents."

"Get all of the company on it. I want Kesrith found, now. If you have to, eliminate the Shadowvar."

Valas nodded and left.

"Well, Vaelirra. Aren't you going to help me save our child from your wonderful friends?"


	18. Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kesrith makes her escape

It was easier than Kesrith anticipated to leave the house. 

The little patio was covered in trees and bushes that concealed her and the fence was low so it was a simple climb. 

The man they had assigned to watch over her was too busy staring at some strange books covered in pictures of pale elves to be paying attention to her. 

She needed to get away. From that bizarre male who claimed he was her sire. From her idiot heretic mother who'd stolen her from all she knew. From all of the drow who followed her father's commands. These people were wrong. Everything they thought and did were wrong.

Someway, somehow, she would find a way back home. 

After all, she had been led by Lolth, and that strange, pale-gold servant into the Underdark when she was younger. Why couldn't Lolth lead her home?

She would only have to find a way back into the Underdark somewhere. It couldn't be that hard.

As soon as she was beyond the garden, Kesrith squinted and shielded her eyes. She hadn't been in full sunlight before and it nearly blinded her with searing light. The darkened lenses that Jarlaxle had given her were a great help, but she spent most of her time looking down at the cobblestones as she trudged along. 

Looking up through her lashes, she studied her surroundings. Tall houses loomed over a courtyard, with a fountain in the center. Trees and flowers decorated the space. So where would a door to her home be? Nothing like this was familiar to her. She turned in each direction and spotted some darker buildings in the distance. That might be the way.

It was farther than she had thought, and now her feet hurt, her eyes burned and she was getting very hungry. The smell of searing meat and fresh-baked bread assaulted her senses as she made her way past the market stalls. At least there was some protection from the sun here. The tall _iblith_ gawked at her, but otherwise didn't bother her. 

She couldn't see how this place could lead back to Menzoberranzan, even though there were several drow there, hawking their wares alongside the humans. A few of them pointed at her and yelled or used hand sign for her to come to them, but she ignored them. She didn't know if they were her father's servants, or if they somehow served a a rival house and she didn't want to find out.

The buildings were becoming more and more dilapidated as she walked along. She could hear the _swish-swish_ of the ocean.

That meant that she was going the _wrong_ way.

She wouldn't ever find a path home if she just relied on a miracle from the goddess. She would have to use her Gift, and that wasn't something she really wanted to do. The last time she'd used it, she hadn't been able to turn it off until the priestess had given her a drug. The images had been so confusing, and vivid, that she lost the ability to enter Reverie, or even to sleep like a human. Grandmother had punished her severely for the resulting collapse and afterwards, Kesrith remained wary of using it, even when instructed to do so.

She closed her eyes and tried to feel the right direction. It took a few moments and her head was starting to hurt, but she saw the strands brighten into existence. She had practiced with the priestesses who had told her that these were the threads of Lolth's web, and that everyone and everything was contained within.

All futures, all pasts. All possibilities.

All Kesrith needed was to find the right future - the one in which she returned to her rightful place at her grandmother's side.

She imagined her grandmother's face, her stern mouth looking down at her. Her grandmother's exquisite gowns covered in jewels and her throne which rose far above her white head. Soon something brightened behind her and she was able to see strand glowing off in the distance. Faint, but still standing out from the rest, it seemed that this was her path. A way back home would be revealed to her, one way or another.

She was preparing to step forward on the long journey home when a large hand landed on her shoulder. 


	19. A Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entreri to the rescue.

Artemis Entreri stepped out of the tavern, squinting in the evening sun.

He wasn't half as drunk as he needed to be.

_Damnit, Dahlia._

He shook his head as if attempting to cast the memories away.

Jarlaxle's consultation with Kimmuriel had revealed that there wasn't an easy fix. The root of Dahlia's rage lie in past trauma, a trauma that couldn't be truly erased without destroying her personality completely.

Not to mention her memories. Including memories of him.

_Shit._

He'd check in with Jarlaxle, then return to the bar. The beer here tasted like donkey ale but at least it was enough to give him a nice, warm buzz.

Before Entreri stepped off into the street however, something caught his eye.

A man-tall, human, pale-strode past him, his black cloak billowing behind him, the insignia of the Shadovar briefly visible on an armband.

The Shadovar agent? Jarlaxle's lover-or former lover-had put herself in bed with the Shadovar or something like that. They had attempted to kidnap the little drow girl.

So what was this one up to?

He decided to find out.

Entreri stalked after the man, his feet silent on the cobblestoned street. The townsfolk shrank away from the Shadovar as he past by, which amused him. To any ordinary viewer, the thought of someone who looked like Artemis Entreri taking on one as frightening as the Shar-worshipper was suicide. But Entreri knew better than that. Those who dressed themselves as silly villains from an afternoon play usually weren't as tough as they pretended to be.

Besides, it paid to be discrete. Making every eye fall on you when you entered in was a bad way to assassinate someone. Something he had argued to a certain foppish drow.

Up ahead, his quarry stopped. The man turned his head towards an alleyway to his left. He stared at it without moving for several moments.

Did the man know he was being followed?

Entreri made a brief study of his surroundings, possible areas where he could strike and pathways to escape before following the man, who had disappeared into the alley.

As the opening became visible, it was clear that the man simply stood there completely still. 

Entreri readied his dagger. The man must be waiting for him. But that didn't seem right. Instead, the man was focused on something else for the moment. Something _beyond_ the alleyway.

Muffled voices drifted from the other side.

"We'll catch a pretty penny for this one," said a grating voice. "She's _nice_ and exotic, ya see? Those brothels down in Calimshan will love her. You know they like 'em _real_ young, they do. Ain't that right?"

Another man guffawed at the suggestion. Entreri's face contorted in rage and disgust.

Kill the Shadovar, then kill these fetid pieces of slime.

Suddenly, a girl screamed. 

"Nau, nau, nau!"

What? The little drow girl? So that is what the Shadovar was up to. He was going to steal the girl while her parents raged at each other. But what was Kesrith doing out here alone in this dirty city full of scoundrels and pirates?

One of the traffickers started shrieking. 

"The little bitch set me on fire!" Several thumps as the man no doubt rolled around on the ground to kill the flames. "You'll pay for that, little cunt." Kesrith screamed again.

The Shadovar made his move. He launched himself from the shadows and onto the man who was now strangling the girl. A knife in the juggular vein released his grip and Kesrith shrank away behind some old barrels, crying. 

The Shadovar didn't get to the other man in time. Entreri's dagger slipped out of his victim's eye as he turned and regarded the agent.

The two men stared at one another.

"What?" said his opponent, lifting a brow. "He was a sick bastard." He shrugged.

"On that we can agree," replied Entreri. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you take the girl.

"This doesn't concern you." The man readied his daggers. 

"Oh, but it does." Entreri stuck. His daggers met the other man's and he pushed him off. In the tight alleyway it was harder to maneuver, but the dagger still clashed, one after another. 

He had to give the man credit. Maybe Thultanthar had sent someone special to retrieve the child. That or they were improving their training from the last time he had fought them.

The man even managed to get a few blows past him, though it was blocked by the chain mail beneath his tunic.

Eventually, Entreri was growing tired of this.

_To the point, then._

Entreri whirled away as the man sliced down with his daggers and returned to face him before he could deal another blow. As he came around, he embedded his dagger into the man's temple with his right hand, and slashed at the man's throat with his left. Stunned, the man dropped his daggers and felt to his knees. His mouth moved like a dying fish as he touched his head and then stared at the blood on his fingers. Entreri pulled the dagger out and the Shadovar collapsed. 

Well, whoever he was, he wasn't _that_ special.

He glanced down at the two dead trafficker scumbags. Damnit. He had been looking forward to teaching them a lesson.

He shrugged. At least they wouldn't be harming anymore little girls.

He made his way over to the barrel where Kesrith was still crying.

"No! Don't come closer!" cried the girl as he approached.

He knelt. "It's just me. Entreri. You beat me at sava, remember?"

She looked up and saw that it was him. Her faced brightened a little, though he could see that she was trying hard to keep a stoic drow expression and failing.

"Come here," he said, reaching out. "I'll take you to your father."

"I don't want to go back! I must return to Menzoberranzan!"

"Is that why you are out here alone?" He couldn't keep from laughing. "That is miles away. Hundreds, even. Didn't you pay attention when you came up here?"

The girl pouted. "I tried to but then Vaelirra made me drink the tea and I couldn't remember what had happened. It didn't seem like a long time."

Tea? He was baffled for a moment, then he thought back to the jar of little red mushrooms that the drow woman had been strung out on. Of course.

The woman had been drugging her daughter.

He'd take her to Jarlaxle then. 

For all his faults, Jarlaxle wouldn't feed his own child a potentially fatal drug. Well, he _probably_ wouldn't.

As he and the girl got to their feet, he brushed himself off and looked around at the bodies.

The drow could clean the mess, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I've been spelling "Shadovar" incorrectly. LOL That's what you get when you listen to audiobooks...
> 
> *"Nau" means "no" in drow according to the internets


	20. Paragons

"And if you fail me again, I will have you scrubbing latrines for the next five years!" yelled Jarlaxle at the younger drow male who was curiously holding a copy of some elven romance in his trembling fingers. His head drooping, the drow apparently hadn't gotten the que to leave prompting his employer to tap him on the shoulder. Jarlaxle signed out the word for "leave" and the man nearly fell over himself as he scrambled to the door.

The mercenary leader rub the temples of his bald head as he turned around, looking for the next object of his wrath. Entreri had seen Jarlaxle's anger before, but rarely. Half the time he had to remind himself that Jarlaxle even was a drow, so different he was from his kin. But today, the drow in him was fully present as he vented his rage on his household.

Jarlaxle turned his eyes to Vaelirra.

"And you! How _could_ you? What would they have done to her if Entreri hadn't come along? How idiotic do you have to be to sell your child to the Shadovar?"

Vaelirra's mouth formed a thin line. "I was told that she would be safe. Their leader assured-"

"I don't want to hear it. You knew this was a foolish course of action. Those people will never respect the drow, not as anything other than weapons."

"How else will I free Kesrith from the talons of Lolth? How else will our people ever be anything more than slaves to her?"

Jarlaxle pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed. Entreri himself had to admit the woman was a bit ridiculous.

"So you would have us all bow down to another Mistress? How is that going to help?"

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I have seen the signs. I have communed with the Lady of Loss."

"Are there more agents after Kesrith?"

The woman threw her hands up. "You are impossible. What does it matter to _you_? You only contributed the seed. I have done everything else."

"You just avoided that question." Jarlaxle stomped closer and opened his mouth to speak but before he could one of the mercenaries cleared his throat.

"We found this in her belongings. It is from Thultanthar." The drow held out a scroll and his leader snatched it. His eyes scanned over the contents as Vaelirra ranted about privacy and people pilfering through her belongings.

The two of them argued while the mercenaries looked around uncomfortably. Entreri glanced towards the corner where Kesrith was being guarded. Her narrow face frowned in worry as she watched her parents fight.

Entreri couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She wasn't a sweet child, but who would be with her upbringing?

"But you have no right-!" yelled Vaelirra.

"Enough!" said Jarlaxle coldly. "I have had enough of this. Enough of _you_."

He pulled a crystal pendant from under his shirt. He held it up and chanted a single trigger word.

Vaelirra's mouth gaped as she stared at him. Her body began to glow with an eerie light, then she slowly faded from view as if she had never been there at all.

Entreri heard Kesrith's sharp intake of breath. He turned to see her pale eyes wide in horror. She glanced around the room, looking for an avenue of escape.

He went to her then, shoving one of the mercs out of the way as he did so.

"What did you do?!" cried the girl.

Jarlaxle turned toward her. "She is not dead. Merely imprisoned." He walked over and knelt down in front of her. "She has food in there and she is safe. I will check on her later."

"You put my mother in a prison?"

Jarlaxle held up the pendant. "In here. And she is always here. I won't let any harm come to her." Jarlaxle reached out to touch the girl but she shrank away.

The girl glared up at him carefully, her mouth drawn into a pout.

Obviously frustrated Jarlaxle shook his head and then called out to one of the female mercenaries who was standing by. 

Take her to her room and get her a change of clothing he said gesturing to her filthy clothes that had been stained in her adventure. 

She has an appointment later this evening. 

The girl reluctantly left but not without staring daggers at her father.

Artemis entreri couldn't help but chuckle.

"Nine Hells," he snickered. "You are spectacularly bad at this."

The drow frowned. "At what?"

"Fatherhood." Entreri stepped closer to him, examining his face. Jarlaxle was showing obvious signs of stress which must mean that this situation was really bad for him. His mask of clever flippancy and charm seldom faltered.

The drow averted his eyes. "I really am that bad, aren't I?"

"Yes." Entreri reached out and patted him on the shoulder in a rare gesture of support. "But that's not really surprising. Drow aren't exactly paragons of excellent parenting."

"And I suppose humans always raise their children with perfect love and care?" said Jarlaxle. Entreri rolled his eyes but the comment stirred things within him that he didn't want to think about right now.

"No. Of course not. Plenty of bad human parents. And probably elf parents as well." He shrugged.

"Not that our lovely surface cousins would ever let it be known that something bad happened among them," agreed Jarlaxle.

The mercenary was silent for a moment, then nodded. "You are right, of course. About drow not being good at raising their children." Defeated, he strode over to the lacquered desk and poured himself a drink. He lifted up the glass with a questioning look. Entreri walked over and poured himself one as well. The two men clinked glasses then downed the liquid, ready for more.

Awkward silence surrounded them as they drank, until the drow looked down at the desk. He picked up a parchment and read the contents.

"I suppose I should give this to you. I forgot to do so with all of this going on. It is an update on Dahlia's situation."

Entreri's heart sank as he scanned the elegant drow script. The news wasn't good.

Lost in despair he stared down at the brandy in his glass, then lifted it up and swallowed it in one gulp. He concentrated on the burn as it went down. Just another distraction to keep him from thinking of things he'd rather not drudge up.

A small, warm hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. He looked up to see Jarlaxle standing closer. Very close.

"I'm sorry," said the drow in a low voice. Something about that voice made his blood hot. His pants tightened. The other man drew even closer.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," said Entreri who realized that his voice was barely above a whisper.

The scent of Jarlaxle's fine cologne aroused him further until his erection strained painfully against his clothing. His mouth was close-so close-to the other man's.

It dawned on the assassin that he had never appreciated the other man's beauty before this moment. He had always acknowledged him as a fop, of course. But he'd never truly taken in the fine angular features, the silken black skin or the deep ruby eyes that now smoldered up at him.

 _Fuck,_ thought Entreri as the drow pressed his own arousal against him. It has been a long time since he had been filled with this much need. 

_Dahlia._ He thought of her and what she might think of this. And in an instant the arousal was gone, replaced with sadness and shame. He pulled away and swiped the parchment off of the desk. He couldn't look at the other man.

"I need to go," he said curtly. "I will keep in touch."

The drow said nothing as he closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I've been mulling over whether I wanted to include stuff from the latest Drizzt novels. I think it's just that so much of the "Generations" trilogy, while good, is really out there and over the top, even for a Drizzt novel. It has some elements that I like, such as Gromph's second daughter, details about Zak and Jarlaxle's friendship. Maybe I will add those to my story, but I';m not sure what to do with the rest of the stuff there. So this is firmly within AU territory, though I am trying to keep it at least somewhat close to the Forgotten Realms world (which I love, I read so many books in that universe) and the actual characters. 
> 
> I actually have had this idea - of Jarlaxle having a daughter of his own - for about 10 years, so much of my conception of this predates the more recent books. There is also a significant influence from the War of the Spider Queen series, the Starlight and Shadows (Liriel Baenre) trilogy and the Lady Penitent trilogy. So those elements may or may not show up at some point.
> 
> I feel like I probably need to add more description to his story. My chapters are starting to look like scripts.


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